


Novak & Co. Accounting

by Destiel_5eva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Cas, CEO!Castiel, Chair Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Sex, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Some Cas whump, Swearing, There's always a happy ending, Violence, homeless!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_5eva/pseuds/Destiel_5eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, someday, all this will be yours. That’s what Castiel's father told him, ten years ago, when he was fifteen years old and had first started working as a clerk in his highly successful business; Novak and Co. Accounting. Who the ‘Co.’ was, nobody knew. The business had been with the Novak family for four generations and now, it belonged to Castiel. </p><p>Dean is a homeless man who lives in a cardboard box near the giant Novak and Co. Accounting building. Every day he waits as a man with blue eyes and a crisp suit hands out a couple dollars to each person. That is until Dean is mugged and that man with the blue eyes  helps him. Their relationship grows from just the pretty man who hands out money to much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with another multi-chapter fic. I hope you all enjoy it.

**Castiel’s POV**

Castiel, someday, all this will be yours. That’s what Castiel's father told him, ten years ago, when he was fifteen years old and had first started working as a clerk in his highly successful business; Novak and Co. Accounting. Who the ‘Co.’ was, nobody knew. The business had been with the Novak family for four generations and now, it belonged to Castiel. His father passed away two weeks ago, the funeral was held and he was buried in the Novak mausoleum. It was bittersweet to see the old man go, on one hand he was the cold and calculating CEO of N&CA but on the other he was the strict and… still cold and calculating father of three boys; Balthazar, Gabriel and Castiel. He's not sure he’ll ever be ready to step into the ginormous shoes' Mr Novak' left behind with the business, let’s just hope he doesn’t wreck things too badly.

***

Castiel wakes to the sound of that obnoxious ringing of his alarm clock. With a groan he swipes the device off the bedside table and on to the floor where the blessed thing shuts up. He groans again, when he thinks of the repercussions of not getting to work on time. Sitting up in his luxurious bed, Castiel swipes a hand through his bed hair. Today is Monday, the start of another horrible week of deadlines that need to be met; meetings that need to be had and employees who need to be yelled at.  He pads out into the wide open plan kitchen, aiming to search it for something edible to eat. He checks the interior of the fridge; off milk, mouldy cheese, slimy ham, rotten vegetables and a plastic container of something that smells like feet. _When was the last time I went shopping?_ He asks himself irritably. He closes the fridge, looking to search the cupboards. He finds some stale breakfast cereal. _That’ll do_ , he thinks, pouring himself a bowl, not bothering with a spoon. There’s no milk so what’s the point? Castiel picks at the dry little flakes, trying not to let them get stuck in his throat. He chugs a glass of water once he finishes his five star meal. He's just about to return to his bedroom to change out of his loose fitting pyjama bottoms and singlet when the doorbell sounds. Castiel checks the clock, it reads a half past six. _Who on earth is up and about at this hour?_

He throws open the door to find a short lady smiling up at him. “Hello Castiel!” she exclaims, bustling into the foyer and through to the kitchen, leaving him staring slack jawed after her. _Who does she think she is? Bursting into my house at six thirty in the morning!_ A little voice in his head shouts. Castiel follows her, an incredulous look plastered to his face. “Oh Dear, don’t make that face, if the wind changes you’ll be stuck like that!” she laughs. Castiel closes his mouth.

“Who are you?” he asks, straightening to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to look threatening. Well as threatening as one can look in striped flannel pyjama pants and a singlet that is a little too small. He tugs it down when it rides up, showing a stripe of pale flesh just above the elastic of his pyjama bottoms.

“Why I’m you housekeeper, cook and maid, you silly boy!”

“Housekeeper? I don’t need a housekeeper! I never hired you!” he exclaims. _Who the hell is this woman? How does she know where I live, how does she know who I am?_ He rants internally, but he keeps his face neutral.

“Of course you didn’t you're too proud for that. Your father told me so. He was the one who hired me, it was in his will, Dear,” she says, coming to stand in front of him.

“So, who are you? You never answered my question.” Castiel demands, glaring at the shorter woman, she has slightly greying pale hair and blue-green eyes.

“My name is Karen Singer,” she says, patting him on the arm. “And you need some more meat on those bones, gee look at you,” she pinches his arm lightly to prove her point. Sure he's been a bit busy lately and the shopping has gotten away from him but he's not starving. Castiel takes a step back from her.

“Ok, Mrs Singer, so my father hired you… to basically look after me?” She stares at him for a moment, thinking.

“Yes! And good thing too, you have nothing in that fridge of yours! I’ll go do some shopping and cook you up a nice meal for when you return from work tonight, how does that sound? Great!” she bustles out of the kitchen, towards the door.

“Wait!” he calls after her, for a small woman she sure does move quickly. “What about your wages! Where are you going to stay?” he calls.

“Don’t you worry about a thing dear, your father has it all worked out!” and just like that, she’s gone, leaving a slack jawed Castiel staring at the closed from door. Wow, if today is anything like this morning, today is going to be an interesting day.

***

Castiel dresses in his usual business suit and trench coat thrown over the top. He walks out of the house at a brisk pace, Mrs Singer’s unannounced visit has already set him back half an hour. He walks through the town square, weaving in and out through the already bustling crowds of men and women getting to work. As he nears the block that is N&CA he sees the usual group of homeless people. His father always looked down on homeless people. He called them ‘scum’ and ‘dirt’. Castiel does not. he feels pity for them, for the circumstances that life has brought them. As he grows nearer, he pulls out his wallet, dropping a couple dollars into each of their hands. A man with a dirty beanie thanks him while two boys, no older than fifteen grab the money and run. Another man, with green eyes and a dirty leather jacket nods his thanks. Castiel nods back, continuing on his way.

***

Walking out of N&CA at six thirty that night was a relief. Apparently today was the day that absolutely no one knew what was going on. His throat hurt from the amount of times he had to repeat himself. Castiel nodded at the homeless people, subconsciously searching for the green-eyed man. He wasn’t there.

Hanging his coat at the door Castiel was greeted with the smell of something good. His stomach growled embarrassingly loud as he entered the kitchen. Maybe he should have eaten more than a handful of stale cereal this morning. He hadn't time to stop for lunch. Mrs Singer was in the kitchen, a pink frilly apron tied over her simple black and white uniform. She smiled when she saw him standing awkwardly at the threshold to the kitchen. _Why do I feel so awkward in my own house?!_   “So, er Mrs Singer, will you be staying in my house permanently?” he inquires.

“Dear, I’m not going to live here, I have my own family,” she replies, pulling out the most mouth-watering casserole out of his previously non-used oven.

“Oh,” apparently, his stomach has taken over all other functions, including his brain, reducing Castiel to one syllable answers like a Neanderthal.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be here from six o’clock on the dot and I’ll leave at five o’clock in the afternoon,” she continues, serving him a generous helping of the casserole. “Now come and sit down, I expect you to eat all of that,” she says, placing the china plate on the table, tapping her foot. She looks like a mother scolding her child. Castiel complied, taking his seat at the table, scooping up a forkful of casserole he shoved it into his mouth. Mrs Singer looked at him, waiting for the verdict. Castiel closed his eyes in pleasure. This was the best thing he’d eaten in ages.

“This is amazing,” he moans, shoving forkful after forkful into his mouth.

“Why thank you, its Bobby’s favourite,” she says fondly, moving back into the kitchen, she begins to wash up the dishes.

“Is Bobby your husband?” he asks.

“Yes,” Mrs Singer replies as the oven timer goes off. “That’ll be the pie,” she stoops to take the pie out of the oven. The smell it emits makes him moan again. Castiel could get used to having Mrs Singer cook for him.

***

When he woke the next morning, the smell of eggs greeted him. Castiel smiled to myself maybe his father wasn’t as cold as he had originally thought. He practically ran to the kitchen where Mrs Singer was finishing cooking a large plate of eggs. “Well you look happy today,” she comments happily, setting the plate down at the breakfast bar. He takes his seat, shovelling down the eggs, heartily.

“It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve had a decent breakfast,” he says around a mouthful of eggs.

“I’m sure,” Mrs Singer says, cleaning up the dishes. After she finishes, she picks up a duster and begins cleaning things here and there. Castiel takes his plate and fork to the sink, washing it off before going to get ready for another gruelling day at the office.

He brushes his teeth and runs his fingers through his hair (no matter what he does with it, it just refuses to do anything but stand up every which way) and staggers into his suit. Grabbing the pile of files he was working on last night, Castiel stacks them into his briefcase and head towards the door. He shouts a goodbye to Mrs Singer along the way.

“Now hold up,” she shouts after him. Castiel pauses, pulling on his trench. Mrs Singer trots up to him, loosening the hastily tied knot of his tie before re-tying it; she folds down his collar and pats him on the cheek. “Alright, have a good day, now” she wishes Castiel. He nods, turning on his heel and heading out the door.

***

Passing the homeless people again, Castiel hands them all a couple dollars each, scanning each of their faces for the green eyed man. He, again, isn’t there. Castiel feels a slight pull at his heart. _Why should I care if some homeless man is present to receive my lousy couple dollars?_ He continues on his way. There are papers to be filed and numbers to be totalled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence in this chapter so be warned.

**Dean's POV**

Dean wakes to the sound of cars and footsteps. Motors rumble and horns tooting, feet clicking and clacking on the cracked footpaths. He lifts his head from where it rests against the cardboard box he leant against a wall. Dean figured that if he lingers around with the group that’s settled a little ways from N&CA, he might have more of a chance to score some cash. A lot of rich folk work at Novak and Co. Accounting. Hell, the building takes up a whole block and is fifteen storeys high. _A lot_ is a bit of an understatement. He waits patiently, his stomach stopped growling a couple of days ago, and Dean doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad sign. Probably bad. He hasn’t eaten in about a week. The agonising cramps have given way to a dull ache that’s easier to ignore. E’s been guzzling water like it’s going out of fashion, he practically lives at the public drink fountain a few kilometres down the way. He buries his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn-out leather jacket.

After about an hour, the guy with the messy hair and blue eyes comes into view. This causes a stir amongst the group. Everyone knows this guy has money. His clothes are neat, a dark suit and blue tie. Dean frowns, usually his tie is backwards and the knot askew, but today it’s as neat as the rest of his outfit. The guy stops, he shoves his hand into his ugly coat and pulls out his wallet. As he hands everyone a few notes his eyes roam over the group, Dean moves closer to him, standing up from his slouched position against the wall. Holding out his hand, the guy closely watches each person he gives money too. He seems to be looking for someone. By the time he reaches Dean, he's the last one. When he looks at him, it’s like a light bulb goes off inside him. He give Dean a wide smile that makes his eyes shine, Dean smiles back awkwardly. _OK whoa, what the hell?_ The guy hands over a note before purposely striding away. Dean glances down at the note in his hand. He does a double take. Instead of the one or five he expects it to be, the note is a one hundred. One hundred dollars. Dean quickly shoves it into his pocket along with the rest of the crumpled notes. He thanks God for the nice people in this world as he makes his way to the nearest grocery store.

***

Dean grabs one of those premade sandwich roll things, walking up to the registers. He puts down this measly item to be scanned by the clerk. She looks at him disapprovingly. Dean knows what he looks like. Scruffy beard, worn out clothes and covered in dirt. It takes more than a little bit of effort on Dean's part not to snap at her that he may not have a roof over his head but at least he's not a thief like the rest of the scum that they are. He’s honest. He glances away; the clerk scans his items and says in a snobby voice, “That’s four dollars twenty.” Dean has great pleasure in pulling out his hundred dollar note and handing it to her. Her eyes widen and she takes the note in shock. _That’s right, bitch, I do have money_. She hands back his change,"er… ninety-five eighty change,”

“Thanks,” Dean replies sarcastically, grabbing his food and leaving. _Today is a good day_ , he thinks as he step out of the grocery store and into the sunshine. He has enough money to last a good five weeks, which means he’ll be eating for the next five weeks. Dean can’t help the smile that forms as he heads towards the park. He grabs a dollar newspaper on his way, yeah he's going to splurge a little.

Dean sat on a bench facing the lake, there are people exercising; joggers, walkers and… _holy shit is that tandem bike?_ He sits up a little straighter to see if it was, indeed a tandem bike. _Yep, it’s tandem bike. Whoa._ There is an assortment of kids ranging from toddlers feeding the ducks to teenagers trying, and failing, to be inconspicuous as they make out behind the bushes.

Flipping open the paper, the first thing he sees is; **_THE KING IS DEAD!_** Well that is an interesting thing to put on the front of a newspaper. Beside these words is a picture of a guy with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Dean read the caption; _Godfrey Novak, may he rest in peace 1940-2014. Who the hell is Godfrey Novak?_ He skims the article.

**_Now that the godfather of accounting, Godfrey Novak, has tragically passed away after a heart attack, how will son; Castiel Novak step up and fill his father’s shoes?_ **

_Castiel? What kind of a name is that? It sounds… religious._   Dean keeps reading:

**_Novak and Co. Accounting, the biggest accounting firm in the whole of the world, with clients stretching from one side of the globe to the other, has been left to Novak’s eldest son; Castiel. How will the youngster take to such responsibilities? With so much to lose, will he rise to the challenge or cower in a corner? Read more page 4-5_ **

Dean flips to the pages to be greeted with a giant photo of the blue-eyed man. So the loaded guy is Castiel Novak. _No wonder he had an extra hundred bucks just lying around for some random homeless dude like myself._   Reading the rest of the article it just basically explains how now that papa Novak is dead, how is Castiel going to ever be able to keep the company afloat? Dean's heart bleeds for him. _At least he has a nice roof over his head, a comfy bed, warm food and doesn’t have to always watch his back._ Dean thinks bitterly, throwing the paper into a nearby bin.

***

As the sun is just about to disappear from the sky, Dean begins to head back to his home sweet home. He walks at a leisurely pace, it’s not like he has much to lose. Rounding a corner he sees the hulking Novak and Co. Accounting. He didn’t know that accounting was that important, shrugging he continues on his way. That is, until someone knocks into him, Dean mumbles out an apology and attempts to keep walking head down, but the person pushes him up against a wall. “Hey!” Dean exclaims which earns me a swift punch to the stomach, doubling him over. He coughs, winded. The person grabs him by the collar of his jacket and arm, dragging Dean into a side alley, throwing him to the ground. Glancing up, Dean sees the person is dressed in all black, their face also covered with a black balaclava. As he stands, two more people; also wearing balaclava’s emerge from the shadows. “Look,” Dean wheezes, “I don’t want any trouble.” The main guy laughs; it’s a horrible laugh, more of a smokers wheeze. He’s big, probably 250 pounds of muscle and has a good couple of inches on Dean.  The other two are smaller, which probably means their faster. Either way, he's screwed.

The guy walks towards Dean; he grabs his chin, forcing his head up. “Scum,” the guy spits. Landing a blow to Dean's face, his head snaps to the side, pain blossoming along his jaw. The guy shoves him. Dean stumbles backwards, into a wall. He hits Dean again, this time a right hook to his ribs. Dean falls forwards, landing on his hands and knees, where the guy kicks him, fiery hot pain radiating from his chest. Dean coughs, pleading with him to stop. He just grabs Dean by the hair, pulling him to sit back on his haunches. The guy lands blow after blow to Dean's face. Surprisingly the other two just stand back and watch. Blood dribbles down from his nose and gashes on Dean's cheeks. “P-please,” he whines, blood dribbling over his lips from where it was flowing straight from his nose. The guy winds up again for another shot, when a voice rings out in the night.

“HEY! Stop, I’ve called the police!” it says. The guy releases his hold on Dean's hair and he drops to the ground, curling up around his injured ribs. His breath is coming in little pants. The sound of rapidly retreating footsteps is like music to his ears. “Hey… um, they’re gone,” the voice mumbles close to Dean's ear. He peeks up from his pained position on the ground. Shockingly blue eyes are the first thing Dean notices followed by the raven hair and then the whole face of Castiel Novak. “Holy… crap, we need to get you to a hospital,” Castiel mutters almost silently. Dean watches as he pulls out his expensive looking mobile phone, dialling someone. “Yes I need an ambulance…” Castiel rattles off a street address and answers numerous questions. “Hang on I’ll ask him,” He says, before turning to Dean, “Are you experiencing sharp pain in your chest or around you lungs?” Dean shakes his head. “No,” he tells the phone. “Have you coughed up any blood?” he asks him, looking increasingly more panicked. Dean shakes his head no again, this seems to calm him. “No,” he answers, glancing around anxiously. Sirens alert them to the imminent arrival of the ambulance.

All of a sudden there is a flurry of people around the two, two with a gurney, one trying to get Castiel to leave Dean's side. “Sir, you need to get out of the way,” the lady tells Castiel sternly. Castiel complies going to stand a distance away, nibbling on his fingernails nervously.

A male and female try to coax Dean out of his foetal position, telling him to lie on the stretcher. Dean does as he's told, even though it makes his chest feel like it’s going to explode. He whimpers in pain. There are raised voices all around him. Sleep. The urge to sleep is suddenly the only thing Dean can think about. Someone tells him to keep his eyes open, but it’s too hard. Everything hurts. Sleep. Dean feels a heaviness settle over his body, the last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is Castiel following the gurney towards the ambulance, he looks pale and scared. Dean has no idea why he would be scared, he's fine. _Aren't I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys find any mistakes or what not just tell me in the comments Ok. Everything I write is unbeta-ed and there is stuff I miss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and kudos-ing and commenting. You're all awesome!

** Castiel’s POV **

Castiel sits in the hospital’s waiting room. He doesn’t know why he's so anxious for the guy to be alright. Maybe it’s because the last thing he expected was to find the green-eyed homeless guy getting the crap beat out of him on his way home from work. Of all the people in this world, why did it have to be him?

Castiel sits with his elbows resting on his knees, his head propped up on one hand. He taps his foot anxiously, glancing at the clock every five seconds. The ringing of his phone startles him. Castiel jumps up, causing most of the other people in the waiting room to glare at him. He offers them an apologetic smile and checks the caller ID to find that it’s his house phone. He steps outside to answer it, “Hello?”

“You had better not be working late again, Mister,” Mrs Singer grumbles on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, although I am not actually working, something came up, I hope to get home soon. I’m at the hospital,” He says looking out over the hospital’s parking lot and the assortment of cars that litter it. His eyes pause over a bright red Alfa Romeo, he wouldn’t mind one of those…

“What are you doing at the hospital?!” she exclaims. The worry evident in Mrs Singer’s voice snaps Castiel back to the reason he’s standing in the parking lot of the hospital staring at a red Alfa Romeo.

“Er… a friend was in an accident,” He replies. It isn’t technically a lie… kind of… not really.

“Oh well, wish them well for me. Also, I’ll be leaving shortly; I was hoping to catch you, that’s why I’ve stayed an hour later than necessary. There’ll be food in the oven, just heat it up.” Castiel glances at his watch, it was indeed six thirty, and Mrs Singer had stayed more than an hour later than what she was meant to.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Singer. You didn’t have to. I can manage on my own,” Castiel rubs a hand over his face and through his hair tugging at the ends, all the stress of the company has been building and building, and now this…

“It’s alright, boy. Now make sure you get home soon. Get some sleep!” she says as a goodbye. Castiel hangs up the phone, walking wearily back into the hospital, he returns to his seat and his anxious wait.

***

Castiel wakes to a rough hand shaking him. He sits bolt upright, slightly confused. _Why am I in a hospital?_ “You are Mr Novak, correct?” the doctor shaking him asks, irritably. Castiel nods, the events of the past few hours coming back to him.

“How is he?” Castiel demands, standing. “Let me see him.”

“Sir, he is resting. But we need a name and some additional information,” the doctor says professionally, tapping on the clipboard in his hands with a pen. Castiel stares at him momentarily dumbfounded. He doesn’t know the green-eyed man at all. He doesn’t even know his name.

“I-I don’t know him… that well,” he says, noticing how stupid his answer sounds. “I’m sorry.” The doctor stares back at him disbelieving, raising an eyebrow.

“So… You’ve been sitting in this chair for over two hours, waiting for a man you ‘ _don’t know that well’_?” The last part of the doctor’s sentence comes out borderline incredulously.

“Yes,” Castiel replies, aware of how tired he suddenly feels. He glances at his watch it reads 9:03. He sighs. “I’ll pay for any expenses,” He tells the doctor, who nods and walks away, clearly annoyed. Castiel sits back down in his seat, waiting to be able to see his green-eyed man. Wait-- not _his_ homeless man, _the_ homeless man. _Man I need to sleep; exhaustion is playing with my mind._

Castiel sits twiddling his thumbs for another half hour before the doctor returns. He stands eagerly, hoping for news on the homeless man’s condition. “He’s going to be fine, he has some internal bruising and a broken nose, he needs pain medication every six hours and rest,” the doctor tells him sternly. Castiel nods.

“Can I see him?”                                                                                

“He’s very tired, like I said he needs rest,”

“Please?” Castiel pleads. The doctor sighs narrowing his eyes at Castiel, but begins leading him down several corridors and up a set of stairs. He pauses outside a room. “Thank you,” Castiel says on an exhale.

“Ten minutes, then you must leave,” the doctor warns, walking away. Castiel pauses before going in, he stares at his reflection in the glass window of the door. His hair is dishevelled. His eyes are ringed with darkness and his skin is pale. He looks like death, not the CEO of a multimillion dollar company. With a sigh, he walks in; the man is asleep, his face sporting various patches of gauze. Under the fluorescent lights the bruises stand out clearly even on his tanned skin. Castiel relaxes in the chair next to the man’s bed. It’s only slightly more comfortable than the plastic waiting room chair that’s given him a throbbing pain in his lower back. Castiel lets his eyes roam over the man. Despite his injuries, he is startling beautiful. He has a strong jaw, long eyelashes and a smattering of freckles over his cheeks and, if his nose weren’t covered in bandages, Castiel would assume his nose is too. He was so busy examining the man's face that he didn’t realise his eyes were now open and staring, questioningly, at Castiel.

“God,” Castiel gasps, when he notices the man staring. He quickly flicks his eyes away, concentrating on the floor. “You scared me.” The man chuckles, which turns into a rasping cough, and then a groan of pain.

“Water,” he rasps, pointing to the jug on the small table to his left.

“Yes, right,” Castiel says stupidly, picking up the jug and pouring some water into the flimsy little cup. He hands it to him. Castiel watches as he attempts to drink while being practically horizontal. Once done, he hands the cup back, to which Castiel replaces next to the jug.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Castiel nods again. _Why did I just nod? What is wrong with me?_ He silently chastises himself. They sit in silence for a moment before he speaks again. “I’m Dean.”

“Dean,” Castiel murmurs to himself. It suits him, very well. “I’m Castiel.”

“I know,” he replies, “I read the paper. You’re quite well known,” Dean states mildly, going to lift an arm to rest behind his head, flinching and returning it to his side. Castiel’s eyes track the movements, noting the way Dean’s arms are lacking in muscle, he’s almost skin and bone.

“So you know all about how now I’m expected to be just like my father and run the company with an iron fist?” Castiel asks bitterly. Dean nods, amused at Castiel’s annoyance. Dean opens his mouth to say something when the annoyed doctor walks in.

“Your ten minutes are up, Mr Novak. You need to leave and let the patient rest.” He shoos Castiel out into the hallway.

“I’ll be back tomorrow!” he calls to Dean as the door closes in his face.

***

Castiel walks briskly back to his house. All the lights are out and he stumbles into the kitchen feeling along the walls for the light switch. Switching it on, he walks over to the oven, kicking his shoes off as he goes. Inside is the most delicious looking roast he's ever seen. Pulling it out; Castiel sees that there are also potatoes, carrot and pumpkin. He sends a silent prayer to God that his father decided to hire Mrs Singer.

After his very late dinner he strolls into his bedroom with the intention of getting ready for bed. That is, until Gabriel calls. Castiel loosened his tie and unbuttons the first few buttons of his dress shirt when the irritating ringing began. With an irritated huff, he snatches his phone out of the pocket of his trench. “What, Gabriel?” he snarls, tired and irritated that his brother is the only thing standing in the way of a good seven hours of blissful unconsciousness.

“Hello to you too, Bro,” Gabriel replies, cheerful as ever.

“What do you want?” Castiel's never had much patience for Gabriel. He has a habit of dancing around his point, to the crux of you wanting to literally shake it out of him. In Castiel's experience, it’s best just to be blunt.

“Weeeeell,” he draws out the word, irritatingly. Castiel refrains from hanging up on him. “A little birdy told me that you were at the hospital, tonight.”

“How do you even know that?” He demands, pacing the length of the room. He’d only left the place twenty minutes ago.

“A little birdy told me,”

“As you stated prior to my question. Who told you, Gabriel?”

He huffs, “Your doctor. We’re good friends and he noticed your name, being the same as mine.” Castiel pauses in his pacing. _What did that have to do with anything?_

“So? Why did he have to tell you? It’s none of your business!” Castiel exclaims, outraged.

“Yeah, Yeah whatever Cassie…”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, resuming his pacing.

“Ok, sorry. But to my point; what are you doing bringing a homeless dude to the hospital?” he asks.

“How do you know he was homeless?” Castiel demands.

“It was either that, or he didn’t like showering or eating,” Gabriel reasons. Castiel has to admit, that is a good point, remembering Dean’s aborted movement to get his arm tucked under his head at the hospital.

“Why is this any of your business?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“It doesn’t look good the big Castiel Novak, CEO of Novak and Co. Accounting is cavorting with homeless dudes.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, he was hurt, and hell he was getting the crap beaten out of him when I walked past, Gabe. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“Cassie, a good CEO has a heart of stone. Did you not listen to anything Dad ever said?”

“Dad was an old bastard who lived to work. I strive to never be like him. Good-bye Gabriel and stop sticking your nose into my business.” Castiel hangs up, throwing the phone on the nightstand and collapsing on the bed. Almost instantly, he fades into unconsciousness still half dressed in his suit, the image of emerald green eyes projected on the inside of his eyelids.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean hates hospitals. He attempts to sleep. But it’s impossible, when he jumps in fright after every noise. It isn’t like him. Living on the streets either hardens or breaks a person. He’d like to think that it hardened him, the trembling in his hands contradicts.

It’s times like this that thoughts of Sam creep into his mind. Dean’s heart clenches. Sam. He hasn’t heard from him in years. Hell it’d be nine years since they last made contact. The night that cop car pulled up and took Sam away from him in a blur of blue and red flashing lights. Dean stares at the ceiling remembering the words Sam said to him; _it’ll be OK, Dean. I’ll find you._ Dean thought that he should be the one saying those things to his little brother.

Sam would be twenty now _. Not such a little brother anymore,_ Dean thinks bitterly, blinking back tears. God he missed him. So much. It is a physical ache in his chest. Not to be cliché but Dean seriously thinks about him every single day. One day, he would find where Sam is and they would be back together again. A tear rolls down his face, making his pain visible, the ache of missing Sam just that much worse. He turns his head to the mound of pillows under his head to hide his sobs.

The door creaks, a beam of light arcs across the linoleum and his eyes shoot open. A nurse steps inside, closing the door behind her. She comes over and checks some things, making barely audible amounts of noise. “You should be asleep,” she whispers, not looking up from what she’s doing. Dean jumps at the sound of her voice even though it wasn’t loud at all, squeezing his eyes closed.

“Can’t sleep,” he says, peaking open one eye to look at her, he thanks the darkness that she isn’t able to see his bloodshot eyes. The nurse looks at him, a small understanding smile on her face.

“Don’t like hospitals?” Dean shakes his head. She smiles again. “I didn’t either.”

“Then how’re you working here?” He asks, confused. He’d never work in a hospital, even if it did get him off the streets. Ok maybe that was a lie.

“Desperate times. It seems you know a lot about desperate times,” she states not unkindly.

“Yeah,” He mumbles. She finishes her jobs and goes to sit in the chair by the bed; Dean follows her with his eyes.

“You want someone to talk to? I would think that there would be many people to speak to… where you’re from,” she picks her words carefully.

“There ain’t many. It’s a dog eat dog world out there,” Dean acknowledges. The nurse nods her head in agreement.

“I’m Anna,” she introduces herself.

“Dean. But you’d know that, wouldn’t ya,” He says with a grin. Anna grins back.

“Who was that nice man who waited over three hours to see you?” Anna asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Castiel Novak… Did you know, he gave me a hundred bucks the other day,” Dean says, excitedly, squeezing his hands together over his lap.

“Really? That was nice of him. Is he a friend of yours?”

“No. He generally just walks past where me and a group of others sleep, he hands out a couple bucks to each of us, then keeps going.” Dean wonders what made Castiel decide to give him the hundred dollar note, his brow furrows in thought. Anna nods at Dean, a small knowing smile on her face. “What?” Dean asks, seeing her expression.

“He sounds like a very lovely man, Dean. He's a keeper. Look, I’d love to stay and talk with you, but I have to keep going on my rounds. Try to get some rest, OK?”

“Ok. Thank you for staying… and talking,”

“You’re welcome, Dean,” she whispers, standing up from her dainty position in the chair and leaving just as silently as she entered. If it weren’t for the heady hit of morphine that helped Dean to sleep, he’d have thought that Anna’s visit was just a figment of his imagination; a visit from an angel sent to watch over him.

***

Light streams through the open blinds, figuratively blinding him. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, covering his eyes with a hand.

“Good morning,” a masculine voice says. Removing his hand, Dean sees a rumpled looking Castiel Novak sitting in the chair beside his bed, a laptop in his lap and a briefcase by his leg.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m here to pick you up… as soon as you’re ready that is. The doctor also has to give you one last mandatory check first,” he says, a small smile tilting up the corners of his chapped lips. Dean focuses on those lips for maybe a second too long, but the guy really needs to invest in some chap stick.

“But… why? You barely know me,” Dean reasons.

“Yes, well I was the one who found you in that… situation, so I figure unless you have another place you could possibly go to recover I am offering you a charity—a place to stay; my place,” he says articulately. Dean just stares at him, his sluggish brain not yet able to decipher what it is he’s saying. It’s too early for rich people speak.

“So, you’re gonna take me—a random homeless dude—to your house because you found me getting the shit beat out of me?” Dean clarifies. Castiel nods.

“If you want to put it that way, yes I am.” _Why are so many people being so kind to me lately?_ Dean wonders.

“But aren’t you like… busy?” Dean nods to the laptop strewn across Castiel's lap.

“I’m taking the day off.” Dean nods, sure he is. He’s brought work to him, instead of going to it. That’s not what he calls a day off. “Anyway, I’ll go and inform the doctor that you have indeed woken.” Castiel stands, placing the laptop into his briefcase and walks out of the room.

Dean huffs a sigh; relaxing into the pillows under his head and neck, Castiel is definitely an interesting person.

***

Dean thinks Castiel is worried about him. When he refused to use the wheelchair the hospital provided him to get into the parking lot, a small frown creased his face. When Dean slid into his BMW and let out a relieved sigh, glad to have the weight off of his bruised ribs, the frown deepened. When they got to Castiel's house (Castiel driving way too slowly, preaching about how any sudden movements can damage Dean's  ribs further) and he climbed the few steps to his door like an old man, Dean was sure that Castiel’ll have that frown permanently etched into his face forever.

Dean stands in the hallway awkwardly, taking in the rooms before him. Never has he seen such luxury. The hallway opened out into a kitchen and dining room which then leads on to a very expensive looking living room. Off to the side are a set of stairs, which he'd assume lead to bedrooms and bathrooms. Dean struggles to pick his jaw up off the floor.  He takes several steps into the kitchen, admiring the marble counter tops and stainless steel appliances. Not looking where he was putting his feet, he stands on something suspiciously shaped like a dress shoe, his ankle twisting and suddenly he's falling. A startled yell escapes Dean's lips as his arms flail for something to hinder his fall. Dean hits the ground, groaning in pain. “Fuck,” he mutters, tears of pain and shock threatening to cascade down his cheeks. Dean wills them away. Especially when the sound of Castiel running to his aide breaks through his pain clouded thoughts.

“Oh crap, I’m sorry Dean. I left my shoes in the kitchen last night after I returned from the hospital. I’m so sorry,” Castiel hurriedly explains, as he helps to get Dean back on his feet. Once he's securely in a bar stool, ice pack to his ribs, Castiel goes about picking up the dreaded shoes. He bustles out of the room and up the stairs, two dull thunks telling Dean, Castiel’s just thrown them—presumably—into his room, haphazardly.  He returns moments later, a guilty look on his face. “I’m really sorry, Dean,” he apologises again.

“It’s ‘Kay,” Dean mumbles, fiddling with his hands. They stand; well Dean sits, Castiel stands, awkwardly for a moment. Then, almost as if a light bulb goes off Castiel exclaims, “You haven’t met Mrs Singer!”

“Um… no?” Dean asks, confused, as Castiel, once again bustles out of the room and prances up the stairs with the same amount of joy as a five year old.

“Mrs Singer!?” Castiel calls, disappearing from view. Dean lets his head fall into his open palms. How did he ever end up in this situation?

***

Introductions were made and Dean found out that _Karen_ (“please call me Karen, only this one calls me Mrs Singer”) is a lovely woman who makes the best pecan pie _ever._  

They ate lunch and then Castiel gave Dean the grand tour of his house. His house is _huge_. It’s two storeys, has an open-plan living/dining room with a kitchen just off to the side. In the living area there are these god-awful couches that’re comfy but fugly. The stairs are kinda weird, they look like their floating and don’t go straight. They start going up one way, then halfway up, you need to turn around a corner and go up the other way. Dean thinks it’s supposed to be ‘modern’. The bedrooms are _huge_ with king-sized beds and grand mahogany wardrobes and in Castiel's room a matching giant desk. The bathroom and en suite are also breathtaking; all white and grey shades with fancy basins and a _huge shower_ and bathtub big enough for two. Dean’s mind instantly goes to the dirty things that could occur in that giant shower. Castiel also has a study that doubles as a library filled with floor to ceiling bookcases filled with books. Castiel's house really is quite breathtaking.

Castiel left Dean in his guest bedroom to get settled in. The first thing he did was lie back on the ginormous bed. It’s been years since Dean's slept in anything this comfortable and before he knows it, he's nodding off, listening to the distant sound of Karen vacuuming.

***

When Dean wakes, it's dark inside the room. Grimacing as he slips off the bed, he makes his way back downstairs, hand held to his ribs. He’s aware of the throbbing in his nose, the pain meds have worn off. He finds Castiel in the kitchen, a plate of what looks like steak with a mushroom sauce and a green salad. Dean's stomach grumbles, eager for some steak. Stepping into the kitchen, he sees Karen at the sink washing up the frypan and various utensils. Castiel is staring intently at his laptop, neither notice his presence. Dean clears his throat. Castiel jumps, head swinging to Dean, blue eyes locking with green. "Dean! Oh my God, you scared me. Mrs Singer could you please get Dean a plate? He looks hungry." Karen does as asked, serving Dean a generous steak and pile of salad, setting it down across from Castiel's.

 "Like I said to this one; you better eat all that. You're skin and bone!" Dean gives her a small smile. If only she knew.

 Dean finishes everything on the plate, asking for seconds. He could get used to Karen's cooking. It's awesome. Castiel looks up from his laptop to give Dean a soft smile, taking an occasional bite from his own dinner before returning to his work. "What time is it?" Dean inquires, looking about the room for a clock. He doesn't see one.

 "Six twenty seven," Castiel replies with a pointed look at Karen. Dean raises an eyebrow questioningly, chewing another mouthful of steak.

 "Alright Castiel. I get it! I'm going!" Karen declares with a roll of her eyes. She pulls off her apron, drying her hands she walks over to the table; she gives Castiel a peck on the cheek and a smile to Dean. "I was supposed to leave at five," she informs before grabbing her coat and leaving.

 "She insists on ignoring the fact that she is only supposed to work until five o'clock," Castiel mutters, closing his laptop and staring at Dean intently.

 "What? Is there something on my face?" He knows his face is a patchwork of bruises, the gauze covering his nose helps to keep his nose in some sort of alignment, but does nothing to hide the deep bruises under both swollen eyes.

 "No. But I should get you your medication," Castiel states, getting up from his chair and disappearing into the lounge room, reappearing holding a paper bag. He takes a bottle from it, uncapping the lid and tapping two capsules into the lid. "Here," he offers the lid to Dean before going to retrieve a glass of water. Dean swallows the tablets as Castiel returns to his place at the table and finishes up his meal, eating slowly, he still leaves half on his plate. "I have to go to work tomorrow but Mrs Singer will be here from six o'clock until whenever she decides to leave." Dean nods and Castiel goes on, "you are welcome to spend time in the library. Do you like reading? There is also the television. I don't know if there is anything that would be interesting on. I have DVD's, Netflix…"

 "Hey Cas, I'll be Ok. You forget I've been living on the streets for years with nothing. Everything here is crazy. I'm good." Dean reassures, reaching across the table to pat Cas on the arm. This seems to reassure Castiel who smiles, gripping onto Dean's hand. Dean feels a little jolt go through him. He quickly disentangles his hand before he says or does something he'll regret. Like kiss Castiel. That would be stupid. Castiel's smile falters before they settle into a comfortable silence. "So… Would you like to watch a movie?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like what you're reading don't forget to comment. :P


	5. Chapter 5

** Castiel's POV **

 

Castiel would be lying to himself if he said that living with Dean was a headache, because in reality he liked it. Maybe a bit little too much. He enjoyed coming home from the firm to find Dean curled up in front of the TV or in the library or just being _there_. It feels like as soon as Castiel sees Dean all the stress evaporates. Not permanently, but for a time. Suddenly Castiel feels that maybe he doesn’t have to shoulder the mammoth load of work home with him. Of course he still does, but seeing Dean helps. It scares him actually. They barely know each other. Sure the two have talked, but Dean still isn't outgoing, he prefers to be alone and is jittery. It's only been six days. Maybe he'll get better with time. Castiel is hopeful.

 

***

He's sitting in his office when he gets a call on his mobile phone. Frowning, he checks the caller ID, it’s his house phone. Checking his watch Castiel answers the call, there's still twenty minutes until his meeting with a potential client. He has time. "Hello?" he says into the phone, tapping his fingers against the stack of paperwork to his left.

 

"Cas," Dean says, slightly panicked. Castiel's frown deepens.

 

"Hello Dean. Is everything alright?" Castiel asks, concerned.

 

"Um… not really. There's been an accident." Immediately Castiel is on high alert.

 

"Are you Ok? Are you hurt?" Cas worries, half out of his chair even though he has no idea why. What would he do? Rush home to check Dean for injuries? That's a bit extreme, Dean's a grown man he can take care of himself, Cas reminds himself, sitting back down.

 

"Yes but er… I broke something. It was an accident. I'm sorry," he whispers guiltily. Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

"What did you break?" Really Castiel has enough money to replace everything in his house so it doesn't really matter what it is that Dean broke. Castiel can't find it in him to even be slightly mad at Dean anyway. It was an accident after all.

 

"The microwave."

 

" _How_ did you break the microwave, Dean?" Cas asks slightly incredulous.

 

"Well, I was hungry…"

 

"Why didn't you get Mrs Singer to make you something?"

 

"I didn't want to be a bother. Anyway so I grabbed the left-over meatloaf and I just put it in," Dean explains. Castiel can almost picture Dean waving his hands around as he explains. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips at the thought.

 

"I don’t know if the bowl that it was in is microwave safe, Dean," Cas replied wearily, the smile dropping.

 

"It wasn't. I think that I put it in for seven and a half minutes wasn't good either," Dean revealed regretfully. Castiel's mouth drops open at the confession, speechless. Seven and a half minutes! Keeping his disbelief under wraps Cas responds:

 

"Dean why on earth didn't you just get Mrs Singer to help you?"

 

"Because I wanted to do it myself! I'm not a kid!" Dean complains, ironically sounding just like a child.

 

"Ok… it's Ok. Just how badly do you think it is?" Cas asks, when a knock comes on the door to his office signalling that he has to leave or he’ll miss the start of his meeting. His secretary Bela sticks her head in and opens her mouth to say something. Cas puts a finger to his lips in a motion to shush her. She nods in understanding and leaves, tapping her wrist as if she were wearing a watch.

 

"Well the inside is black and the whole house smells of burning… Oh no here comes Karen. Shit she looks mad," Dean says panicked. Castiel sighs.

 

"I have to go. I have a meeting. Please in future just get Mrs Singer to help you. But thank you for informing me."

 

"Ok, bye Cas…"

 

"Deeeean what's that smell?" Castiel hears Mrs Singer's voice cry in the background followed by a gasp and then a scuffle. "DEAN! What did you _do_?" The line goes dead. Castiel stares at his phone for a moment. His stress levels feel as if they have just risen ten-fold. What is he going to do with Dean? He shakes his head, leaving his office to commence his meeting.

 

***

Castiel kneads his fingers into his temple as he steps into the elevator on the way back from his meeting. His head is throbbing as if someone had smacked him over the skull with a sledgehammer. There are two other people inside the confined space with him, they nod politely but otherwise remain silent.  Once the doors open with a sharp ping that makes Castiel flinch and his head throb, he hurries back to his office. Panadol is the only thought on his mind at the moment.

 

He comes to a screeching halt when Bela calls out to him with a mildly irritated, “Sir?” Castiel approaches the desk pasting on a smile that threatens to crack his dry lips.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You have a call waiting for you,” Bela informs him, resting her elbows on the desk and her chin in her palms. She leans forward suggestively, taunting Castiel to take a peak down the front of her revealing blouse. Castiel attempts to hide his annoyance.

 

“Is that all?” he snaps, eager to get back to his office and the waiting Panadol.

 

“No. Mr Adler is requesting a meeting. What should I tell him?” Bela says, straightening up, understanding the message: Castiel is not interested. Castiel internally groans. Adler had been irritating him all week. He simply hadn’t the time to organise a meeting with the incessant man yet.

 

“Tell him I’ll call him back.”

 

“Sure thing,” Bela replies and Castiel turns to leave, his head feeling as if someone is knocking on the inside of his skull like a door. “And Sir?” Bela calls out, stopping Castiel in his tracks.

 

“Yes?” he asks, not turning to face the woman.

 

“If you need anything… you know anything at all, I’d be happy to oblige you,” Bela tries and fails to sound seductive.

 

“Thanks but no thanks. You are an employee, act like one,” Castiel grinds out, stalking back to his office, the only thing stopping him from slamming the door like a child is his pounding head.

 

Castiel’s bad mood dissipates with the more steps he takes away from N&CA. Soon he would see Dean and he’d be able to relax, sit down and have a meal. Maybe even watch a movie or something.

***

 

Dean wasn't lying when he said that the whole house smelled like burning… well _everything_. When Castiel arrives home, his senses are assaulted with the scent of burnt food. Dean sits on the couch nervously awaiting Cas' scolding. "Well you certainly weren't joking about the smell," Cas states dropping his briefcase on the dining room table and running his hands through his hair in agitation, leaving it sticking up haphazardly. Dean gets up and follows Cas into the kitchen, head held low.

 

"I'm really sorry, Cas," Dean apologises again as Castiel goes to inspect the microwave. Most of the interior has been cleaned, but it still has a golden sheen which definitely wasn't there before. "Karen tried to get most of the black-out… but I think it's stained," Dean informs the floor, not meeting Castiel's gaze.

 

"Dean look at me," Castiel says quietly, turning to face Dean. Dean continues to stare studiously at the floor. With a huff, Cas steps up to Dean, using a finger to force Dean's chin up. "It's Ok. It was only a microwave," Cas promises, holding Dean's gaze. Guilt shone in Dean's eyes but beneath it all Castiel could sense a tiny sliver of relief. "You can go with Mrs Singer tomorrow and buy another one. A better one."

 

"Really?" Dean asks. Cas nods, his eyes travelling from Dean's eyes to the bridge of his nose where freckles create a constellation across Dean's complexion. His eyes follow the trail down to Dean's lips which are pink and as Cas watches, Dean's tongue pokes out to dampen them. He swallows hard, want beginning to worm its way around inside him. Castiel wonders what those lips would feel like against his own. Castiel jerks away in embarrassment. What the hell just happened? He had come so very close to closing the gap between them and kissing Dean. That would have been horrifying if Dean had then turned around and told Cas that he was straight, unlike Castiel himself. Clearing his throat he searches for a subject to divert the awkwardness that is settling upon the room like a blanket. He spies the oven, knowing Mrs Singer will have left their dinner inside.

 

"So... You hungry?" He asks going over to the oven and pulling open the door.

 

"Yes, Karen made risotto. She wouldn't let me have any until you got home," Dean replied solemnly. Castiel gave a chuckle as he pulled out the deep fry pan. Grabbing two bowls and two forks, he served a generous amount for each of them. He holds out a bowl for Dean to take before taking his own to the table. They sit down in their usual spots across from one another. Castiel gives Dean a small grin as he takes his first bite, noting the way Dean's eyes track the movement of the fork and visibly swallowing as Cas' tongue pokes out to lick the back of his fork clean. "This is very good, Mrs Singer has outdone herself," he comments taking another bite. Dean pulls his eyes away to take his own mouthful, moaning as he chews. Castiel can't help the bolt of arousal at the sounds Dean was making. He silently chastises himself _: Stop! Dean is most likely straight you fool!_ They finish their meal in silence. Castiel ends up pushing half of it around his bowl, while Dean shovels the rice mix into his mouth with vigour. Cas notes the way Dean’s bruises have faded from the deep purple to a mottled yellow. The swelling around his nose has also receded back to what he would assume is normal. Dean refused to put any more gauze on after two days; he claimed it made him look like ‘weak’. Dean doesn’t notice his staring, or if he did, he doesn’t mention it.

 

***

When Castiel padded upstairs to shower after dinner, he did a lot more than just shower. Castiel stood under the pounding stream of water, letting it relieve all the tightness in his muscles, but with a glance between his legs Castiel knew there was one thing that the water wasn't going to relieve. Damn Dean. With one hand he relieved himself of all the pent up sexual tension Dean was causing him, leaning his forehead against the tile.  He worked his hand over his stiff cock with absolutely no finesse whatsoever, tempting himself with the thoughts of what could have happened if he had kissed Dean. That and the noises Dean was making at dinner. Holy shit, he sounded like some kind of porn star.

 

It’s been a while since Castiel’s had the inclination to touch himself and in minutes was a gasping mess, painting the tiles in white. It had been years since someone had affected Cas in the way Dean does now. With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, Castiel exited the shower, dried off, pulled on a pair of boxers and promptly collapsed into bed. Too tired and stressed to care that it was only eight o'clock. 

 

To say running a multimillion dollar company was stressful was an understatement. Castiel is finally beginning to understand why his father was as cold and calculating as he was. It's hard being the CEO of Novak & Co. Accounting. At any given moment there are five different people asking Castiel of his opinion as to what should be done with this business's and that business's accounting or being in meetings for four hours straight. It was exhausting.  Thank God tomorrow is Sunday.

 

Castiel wakes to the sound of clanging pans and loud rock music. _She told me to come but I was already there._ I'll say, Cas thought remembering his activities in the shower the night before as he rolled out of bed. The music got louder as he stumbled down the stairs. _Cause the walls start shaking. The earth was quaking._ By the time he reached the kitchen, Castiel felt as if he should be worried the neighbours would file a noise complaint. The walls literally felt like they were shaking, the windows certainly were. Castiel rounded the corner into the kitchen to find Dean in a pair of his flannel pyjamas, standing behind a pan of bacon. Mrs Singer is making pancakes and both are dancing along to the music. Dean singing along to the lyrics. "Come on Karen, you know the chorus! _And you shook me all night long!” Dean_ bellowed, _"Yeah you shook me all night long!_ " Castiel smiled softly at Dean, he had become much more comfortable about staying with Castiel over the course of the two weeks. The dancing was clear proof of that. Mrs Singer turned and saw Castiel standing in the doorway; she sighed in relief and went to turn the music down. "Aw, Karen!" Dean protested. All Karen did was nod in Castiel's direction. Dean turned, eyes floating from Castiel's face down his bare chest, where they stopped. Almost immediately a blush turned Dean's cheeks pink and he returned to his cooking. "Sorry I woke you Cas," he told the bacon.

 

"That's fine, Dean. I'm just happy to see you comfortable in my house," Castiel says as he walks up behind Dean to inspect the bacon. It was crispy and looked good. "So you like rock?" Castiel whispers into Dean's ear, standing close enough to the other man to be able to feel the heat radiating from him and smell the soap he must have washed with. Dean shivers at either Castiel's proximity or the sensation of Cas' breath on his ear. Either way a zing of pleasure rockets straight down to between Cas' legs. Moving away before the tinge of arousal turns into a full blown boner, Castiel grabs a plate for himself and Dean. Dean takes that as his queue and begins adding pancakes and bacon.

 

"Are you going to have some, Karen?" Dean asks. Mrs Singer just smiles and disappears upstairs. Dean shrugs and takes his plate over to the table, Castiel following behind.

 

"Would you like some coffee?" He questions placing his plate on the table and returning to the kitchen to grab a mug, he can feel Dean's gaze on his bare back.

 

"Sure." Returning to the table with the mugs full of the steaming liquid, he places one in front of Dean and takes his place. Dean's eyes flick up every now and again, landing on Cas' bare chest before returning to his food. Then back up again. Then back to his food. The blush from earlier ever present on his cheeks. Castiel hides his happy grin by shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth. He makes it through half a pancake before his hunger seemingly dies, he pushes the remaining around on his plate, content to watch Dean eat. Dean has been gaining weight, his shoulders filling Castiel’s shirts to the point where they could be deemed too small. He’s no longer the scrawny homeless man.

 

"I was thinking we could go shopping for that microwave today," Castiel says trying to coax Dean out of silence. It only succeeds in deepening his blush. Castiel groans internally. _Dean really does embarrass easily._ Reaching across the table, he grabs one of Dean's hands. "Hey, it's Ok if you don't want to…" he says softly, patting Dean's hand comfortingly. Dean smiles, his blush receding.

 

"Sounds good, Cas."

 

"Great!" Castiel grins, "We'll leave after breakfast. I have had my eye on one of those newer models, so it was actually a good thing you kind of breaking my old one," Cas rambles, Dean nods along and they finish their breakfast talking about appliances.

 

***

Dean and Cas leave their dirty dishes in the sink (" _You will not wash those dishes, it's my job not yours!_ ") and they jogged up the stairs, parting ways up the top, Cas to go right and Dean to go left. Castiel returned to his room, pulling a pair of jeans over his boxers and buttoning on a navy blue shirt, rolling the sleeves to his elbows. He was just about to leave his room when Mrs Singer stopped him at the door. "And where do you think you're going with hair looking like that?" she questions, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

 

"Dean and I are going out to buy a new microwave," Cas explains.

 

"No," Mrs Singer states bluntly, grabbing Cas by the arm and half dragging him into his en suite. Positioning him in front of the mirror, Mrs Singer gets to work on his bed hair. A good ten minutes later she had tamed it to what she deemed fit to be seen in public. "You better hurry up and make a move with that boy," she mutters, running a comb through his hair once more.

 

"What do you mean?" Cas asks, frowning at the shorter lady through the mirror.

 

"Don't play coy with me, Castiel Novak. I see how you act around Dean. You like him and he likes you. Why don't you go out and spend the day? Buy him some nice things. Some clothes, some music. He likes that rock stuff and he watches a hell of a lot of those car shows during the day. He was telling me all about some classic car the other day. It’s the name of some kind of animal… I can’t remember what. Anyway… I’ll put in a word with Bobby and we’ll see if you can persuade him to let Dean have a job. Use some of those business skills. He gets bored easy. You're good for him Castiel. He needs someone like you in his life. Not to mention you needing someone. You spend too much time working," Mrs Singer says sincerely, patting his arm. "Now, go knock him dead!" she grins, pushing him towards the door.

 

"You really think Dean likes me too?" Cas asks shyly, pausing by the door. Mrs Singer gives him a 'duh' look.

 

"I know he does. Don't be afraid Castiel!" With those words of encouragement, he straightens and marches down the stairs intending to spend the day with Dean. It would be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel is beginning to happen folks!


	6. Chapter 6

** Dean's POV **

 

Dean swore that whatever Cas did upstairs that took fifteen minutes for him to get ready must have been magical. Because when he trotted downstairs and met Dean at the front door he looked absolutely smoking hot. Dean'd be lying if he said that seeing Cas with his hair all neat and that navy button up didn't cause some dirty thoughts to pop into his mind. "You ready?" Cas asks, sliding his wallet and keys into his pocket.

 

"Yep."

 

"Alright, let's go then."

 

***

 

Castiel pulls into a giant department store complex. Dean's pretty sure the only time he's ever been in there was because this older fella he used to hang around with wanted to steal a pillow. It's triple storey with what had to be _hundreds_ to stores inside. Dean sits in Castiel's car, mouth agape. "Dean? Are you Ok?" Cas asks concerned, placing a warm hand on Dean's thigh.

 

"Uh, yeah. Let's just go," Dean mutters, hurrying to exit the car. Inside the complex Dean is again struck with how big the place is. There are people _everywhere_ and Dean feels the strange urge to hold Cas' hand tight so he doesn't get lost. Speaking of getting lost… Dean spins around, eyes scanning the people before him. _Where's Cas?_ His eyes frantically search the crowd, looking for that navy blue button up. Panic begins to swell in his gut. He's about to shout Cas' name when a hand slips into his, fingers curling between his own. He almost jerks his arm away when he notices that the phantom hand actually belongs to Cas. "Jesus, I nearly had a heart attack!" Dean exclaims, relief washing over him.

 

"I'm sorry; I was pulled away by that man over there…" Dean's eyes flick to where Castiel was hinting at. A man in a white golfing outfit was standing with a group of women. He was slightly balding and had a slight beer gut. Dean refrains from screwing up his face.

 

"Why?" Dean asks, turning a questioning gaze to Cas.

 

"Novak and Co. organises his business's accounting and he wanted to know if it would be wise to open another store and turn his business into a franchise," Castiel sighs, pulling Dean further into the complex.

 

"What did you tell him?" Dean asks, firmly holding onto Cas' hand.

 

"I told him that I would not discuss work matters on my day off."

 

"Really? You told him that?" Dean asks in disbelief.

 

"Yes. He then proceeded to inform me that I am not fit to be running my fathers’ company and that he would be ashamed of my poor decisions," Castiel deadpanned, eyes scanning over a rack of shirts with a sign that screams: 20% OFF. Dean stops abruptly and stares at Cas, incredulous.

 

"What an asshat. I should go over there and tell him just how wrong he is. You're awesome at running the company! You work hard and you're fair to everyone and… and…" Dean rants. Castiel silences him by giving Dean's hand a firm squeeze.

 

"Thank you Dean for your kind words but I believe that that man may be correct… no let me finish." Castiel rushes when he sees Dean open his mouth to butt in indignantly. "My running of Novak and Co. isn't going so well. There is a great amount of pressure that I am not used to and… Ok enough with business talk. I made a list of everything we need to buy today. Money is no object, so if you see anything you like, I'll buy it for you, Ok?" Castiel switches subjects with a hopeful look. Dean lets it drop… for now.

 

***

 

Castiel first pulls Dean into a home wares store in search of a microwave. Dean wanders around determined to pick one that Cas likes. He scans the long row of appliances. Dean almost dies when he sees the price of some of the more expensive ones even though Cas said that money wasn't a problem. Castiel trails behind him with an amused smirk on his face and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked like some kind of supermodel, better suited on the front page of a magazine than in an Ikea. Dean frowns at the signs that advertised all the features of each machine. Most of it was just gibberish and he finally settled on one that is stainless steel and has more buttons than the cockpit of an aeroplane. The price was fairly hefty but when Cas saw Dean pause at it for longer than a minute he knew that this was the one Dean wanted, even with Dean protesting all the way to the registers. Cas bought it anyway.

 

The next store they visited much to Dean's distaste was a men's clothing store. "Cas what are we doing in here?" Dean asks somewhat annoyed. Cas just rolls his eyes. Dean walks around the store in search of a seat. Sadly, unlike those comfy chairs in women's clothing stores that are seemingly made especially for bored men, there was only a row of four plastic school-like chairs outside the change rooms. Dean took a seat, rolling his neck to relieve some of the building tension there.

 

"Dean come here please," Cas calls holding up a bundle of shirts on their hangers. Dean sighs, annoyed at having to stand so shortly after sitting down and makes his way, grudgingly, towards Cas who is standing before a giant selection of somewhat formal shirts. "Try these on," Cas demands thrusting the clothing into Dean's arms. Dean sighs again and walks into the changing room.  Glancing at the selection of long sleeved dress shirts Cas picked for him, Dean chooses to try the grey pinstriped shirt first. It fit snugly accentuating the barely visible muscles in his biceps and broad shoulders. Shocked that Cas knew his size, Dean exited the changing room to find Cas sitting in a plastic chair arms laden with clothes; an assortment of pants this time. "I like that one," Cas comments and Dean nods returning to try on the others before moving onto the pants. By the time they left Dean had two new business shirts, the grey pinstripe and a white one, also two pairs of black slacks. Cas got himself a new suit which made Dean's jaw hit the floor when Cas changed into it. The suit fit impeccably well, it looked tailored to fit Cas' body. It emphasised the slight broadness of Cas' shoulders before tapering into his slim hips, the pants cupping his butt in a way that made Dean's mouth water. Dean likes that suit.

 

Dean pulls Cas into a music store next, excitedly bustling over to the classic rock section. Cas followed behind, subtly checking out Dean's behind in the process. Dean's bow legs made a slew of dirty thoughts buzz around in Cas' head making his pants a little bit tighter, Castiel averted his eyes. "Look Cas!" Dean exclaims happily, holding at least five CD's for Cas to see. Cas took the CD's: Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Metallica, Black Sabbath and Motorhead. Dean's eyes shine with excitement. "Can I get 'em? Please," Dean pleads, with what can only be described as a puppy dog look. There's no way Cas can refuse. Dean is positively cheery after that.

 

After visiting one more store; a stationery store for Cas to pick up some more lined paper and some type of business book that Dean can't remember the name of… something about Treble.  Dean spent most of the time playing with the stationary, launching staples at Cas and the like. They stop for lunch. "What would you like Dean?" Cas asks, dropping his shopping bags by the table Dean had dropped down in.

 

“A burger,” Dean decides watching Cas pick staples out of his hair. Dean hid his smirk behind his hand. Castiel nods and walks off to retrieve their lunches, Dean shamelessly checking out Cas' butt, earning him a disgusted look from an older woman near him. "Don't hate," he tells her. She huffs and leaves, Dean shrugs undeterred. Cas is hot and Dean's allowed to check him out if he wants. And boy does Dean want. Dean waits patiently for Cas to return and when he sees Cas walking towards him his face positively lights up.

 

"Here you go," Cas says placing Dean's bag containing his burger before him before taking a seat across from Dean.

 

"Thanks Cas," Dean smiles unwrapping his food and taking a big bite, savouring the flavour of the meat and melting cheese. "What did you get?" Deans asks mouth full. Cas gives him a fond smile.

 

"Swallow then talk," Cas reminds him. Dean attempts to chew faster which consequently makes him take longer.

 

"Sorry. What did you get?" Dean asks again this time without the food in his mouth.

 

"A chicken salad shaker," Cas replies shaking the salad. Dean screws up his nose in distaste. "What?" Cas laughs.

 

"A salad. Gross."

 

"Salad is good for you Dean you should eat it," Cas argues.

 

"No it's good for rabbits. I am not a rabbit therefore I don't need to eat it," Dean concludes taking another bite of his burger and revelling in the taste of the juicy meat. Cas just shakes his head.

 

"I was thinking we could get you some everyday clothes once we finish lunch. You can pick them out yourself, I think there's a vintage tee shirt shop in here somewhere," Cas suggests. Dean nods, he'd been wearing Cas' clothes for the past two weeks. Cas shirts which are slightly too small in the shoulders but not enough to be overly uncomfortable, just enough to make Dean excited at the prospect of his own clothes. Not that he doesn't like wearing Cas' clothes. Cas' clothes smell like him and Dean would be lying if he said that he doesn't smell them from time to time. Cas smells good. A mix of spice; cloves mainly. "Ok it’s a plan then."

 

***

 

By the time they headed back to Cas' BMW Dean felt exhausted. After they went to the vintage tee shirt store, where Dean picked out an assortment of band tees, they went to another store to buy jeans then another store to buy winter clothes then another for underwear. It was ridiculous, Dean was used to Walmart clothes and now Cas was buying him designer underwear that cost over fifty bucks. It wasn't like anyone was going to see it. Well, Dean hoped Cas would but… _Ok, enough._ They were weighed down with at least seven bags each. Cas was juggling the box containing the microwave as well. Once inside Cas' car they both let out a sigh of relief. "Well that was fun," Cas says, wiping sweat from his temples. Dean chuckles. "What?" Cas asks, smiling at Dean.

 

"Nothin' I've just never heard a man say shopping was fun, that's all."

 

"Did you not have fun?" Cas asks, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. Dean rolls his eyes and nods. Cas' face lights up. "Good. I think we got everything so I declare this shopping trip a success." Dean laughs and rests his arm on the door, wiping a hand over his face. Cas laughs too and they begin the drive back to Cas' house.

 

***

 

"Did you boys have fun?" Karen asks, coming to help them bring their bounty inside from the car.

 

"Yes we did, Mrs Singer. I think today was a grand success," Cas confirms watching Dean bring the microwave from the boot of the car into the house.  Dean places the microwave on the marble bench top in the kitchen before going back out to help unload the car. As he reaches the threshold of the door, he sees Cas and Karen having a conversation. Not wanting to interfere, he waits before going out to join them.

 

"He's a good boy Castiel…" Karen was saying when Dean reached the BMW.

 

"Who's a good boy?" Dean asks curiously. Cas jumps at the sound of Dean's voice behind him and spins around, blushing.

 

"You are," Karen states, grabbing a bag and returning to the house. Dean blushes at Karen's comment, while Cas looks away awkwardly.

 

"We should probably go… install the microwave?" Cas suggests hurrying into the house. Dean stares at Cas' back and maybe lower… No definitely not lower that would be… weird. Dean follows Cas inside.

 

He meets Cas in the kitchen, he's in the process of opening the box containing the microwave. With very limited success. "Dude, don't you own scissors or like a knife or something?" Dean asks, going over to the knife block. He grabs the largest knife and holds it up with a grin. Cas gives him a worried look.

 

"Um, I don't think that a knife of that size would be… appropriate," he mumbles, glancing between Dean and the giant knife in his possession with a mix of fear and concern for Dean. Dean laughs, putting the knife back and grabbing a smaller one. One that could be used to cut the tape on the box and not cause bodily harm in the process. Dean gets the box open and Cas immediately reaches for the instructions.

 

"Really?" Dean cries, slapping his palms on the bench top in exasperation. Cas raises an eyebrow and goes back to examining the manual.

 

"I like to know how to use my appliances. Especially ones that I'll have to use often," Cas states, blandly. Dean pouts, taking the microwave out of its box, eagerly ripping the blue tape off the stainless steel. Dean can feel Cas' eyes on him as he places a hand to the cool metal, leaving a hand print. He grins, looking at his handiwork. Cas rolls his eyes amused. "I should have known you would do that." Dean shrugs.

 

"So have your instructions told you how to use this thing?" Dean questions, pressing the button to open the door out of boredom.

 

"Sort of…" Cas confesses, looking between the series of buttons and the page. "It's fairly complicated and by 'fairly' I mean extremely. I have no idea what half of these buttons mean." Dean smirks.

 

"Oh well. We'll just have to figure it out as we go along."

 

"I suppose."

 

"C'mon Cas let us put it into its new home," Dean says, lifting the appliance off the countertop and directing it into its spot on an opposite bench under the overhead cupboards. It goes well with the black cabinetry if Dean does think so himself. He admires his choice of appliance. One day they'd actually figure out how to use the damn thing. But until then, Dean vows not to touch it. The last thing he needs is to break this microwave too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read and re-read this chapter like fifty times. I hope there are no mistakes, but if there are, feel free to tell me!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of whump!cas in this chapter. I'm sorry. It gets better in the next one! Promise.

** Castiel’s POV **

Castiel is busy. Work has been frantic, the end of financial year is approaching and soon everyone will want to do their taxes. Castiel is stressed out of his mind. He has his staff on longer shifts too, which is making everyone irritable. It’s been two weeks since the shopping trip. It’s like as soon as Castiel came to work the next day everything was thrust into overdrive. Cas can barely think straight. How had his father managed this for thirty-five years?

 

Castiel is sitting in his office, reading emails. His foot is tapping out a rhythm on the carpeted ground; his inbox has a large bolded 87 next to it. A daunting number. Eighty seven emails. He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He checks the clock on the wall it reads a half past five. Normally he would be getting ready to leave by six (still an hour after everyone else had left) but lately everyone has been working until Castiel deems them able to leave; which sadly has been closer to eight. Castiel feels guilty at having to overwork his staff so much. But they’d never be able to get everything done otherwise.

 

Castiel goes back to reading the email, it’s from a client; Mr Adler, the balding man from the department store. He’s still hounding Cas for advice on his business. Cas makes a note to set up an appointment with the irritating man. It’s best to get him out of the way quickly.

 

Cas picks up the phone and dials for his secretary. “Yes, Sir?” she asks tiredly.

 

“Could you please arrange for a time for Mr Zachariah Adler to come in? Some time on Thursday I believe I’m free,” Castiel queries.

 

“Let me just check…” Becky’s voice trails off, followed by the tapping of keys. “Yes you have an hour free at two on Thursday. Would it be suitable for Mr Adler to come in then?”

 

“Yes. Thank you Becky,” Castiel yawns. He glances at the clock again; it reads ten minutes to six. “And Becky?”

 

“Yes, Sir?”

 

“You may leave now,” Castiel tells her. “Tell everyone they may go home.”

 

“Thank you, Mr Novak,” Becky chirps relieved.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Castiel taps out a reply to Mr Adler, informing him that a time has been set up for him to come in at two o’clock on the coming Thursday. Moving on, Castiel gets to putting more of a dent into the considerable amount of emails. Some are from clients, like Mr Adler and others are from people within the company asking for advice from Castiel about particular things. When Cas glances at the clock again, it reads a half past nine. Castiel has 23 emails left. Pausing, Cas weighs up his options, go home now and get some rest and leave these emails for tomorrow, setting back that day’s work with these, or do them now and sacrifice sleep.

 

Castiel replies to them now.

 

***

 

When Castiel stumbles into the house an hour and a half later, all the lights are out and there is no noise except for the TV. Castiel squints into the living room; there is a lump of blankets and cushions reclining on the couch. Dean. Castiel smiles fondly, he placed his briefcase down and tiptoes closer.

 

The TV is showing some horror movie about ghosts, Castiel pays no attention to it, especially when a knife randomly descends from the ceiling, narrowly missing one of the characters. He’s focused on the man curled up in a blanket pile, sleeping soundly. Castiel watches Dean for a moment, his head is tipped to the side and little snores escape his mouth, his hair is sticking up every which way and he looks… beautiful. Castiel heart clenches at the realisation. Dean is beautiful; the light from the TV casts half his face in shadow. His jaw is covered in slight stubble and his eyelashes… they’re long enough to make models envious. And his freckles: a constellation across the bridge of his nose. Dean makes a little noise, something like a muttered word, Castiel can’t quite catch it. He strains his ears to make out what Dean’s saying. Leaning closer, Castiel listens. Dean says it again. “ _Cas_.” Castiel freezes in shock. Dean is muttering his name in his sleep. His heart beats a mile a minute in his chest.

 

Relaxing, Castiel pulls a blanket higher up on Dean’s shoulder from where it was slipping onto the floor. “Good night Dean,” he whispers and in a spur of the moment, places a  kiss to Dean’s forehead; barely the brush of his lips against Dean's warm skin. He tiptoes upstairs, careful not to wake Dean. Castiel smiles to himself as he readies for bed. Maybe tonight he’ll get a decent nights rest, thinking of Dean’s peaceful face as he slept downstairs.

 

***

 

“What time did you get home last night?” Dean asks the next morning as he and Castiel eat a hearty breakfast of porridge and fruit. Castiel takes his time slicing up a banana before he replies. Is Dean aware of what he did last night? Is he about to call Castiel out?

 

“Um about quarter to ten, why do you ask?” he says carefully, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

 

“You should have woken me up. I tried to wait up for you, but yeah that didn’t work. I didn’t even hear you come in,” Dean grumbles, unhappy at himself. Castiel almost heaves a sigh of relief. Dean doesn’t know about the kiss.

 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel apologizes, placing a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. He rubs his eyes absent minded, lately it felt as if sand were constantly in them. Maybe he should go to an optometrist or something. He shakes his head, that would mean time off work and that would mean things wouldn’t be able to be done. Time is of the essence as his father would always say.

 

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Anyway. Did you eat dinner last night? Karen left steak and vegetables in the oven,” Dean says, stuffing his face with his honey drowned porridge. Castiel blushes, the dark circles under his eyes standing out vividly against the rosiness of his cheeks. He was too tired to even think about dinner. “You didn’t. No wonder Karen was so annoyed. You better watch out. She’s upstairs cleaning the bathroom right now. So I’d make a quick escape before she sees you,” Dean suggests helpfully. Castiel can’t help but smile. He can’t imagine how dull his life must have seemed before Dean stepped into it. Now he has someone to talk with, laugh with. Castiel can’t remember the last time he had a friend. Now he has Dean.

 

“I think I will take your advice,” Castiel nods, picking up his mostly full bowl and placing it on the sink for Karen. Dean frowns at it, following Cas over to the sink. He’d eaten two bowls whereas Castiel had barely touched his. In truth, he has been too stressed to eat much lately. His stomach constantly in knots over business things.

 

“Ok…,” Dean says slowly. “Um… Cas?” he asks leaning against the sink, watching as Castiel gathers his briefcase and stacks of files.

 

“Yes Dean?” he replies, counting the number of files he’s holding, making sure he doesn’t forget any. If he did that would be an inconvenience, he’d have to come back and grab it and that would cost valuable time that he does not have. He opens his briefcase, placing the files inside along with his laptop. He has an office computer of course, but some of his documents are only on his personal laptop so it’s easier to carry it around also.

 

“Cas?” It may have been the first or fiftieth time Dean’s called his name. Castiel can’t be sure. He had been too caught up in his worry over the business.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you Ok? You seem stressed,” Dean states, brows crinkling in concern. Castiel brushes him off.

 

“I’m fine, just busy.”

 

“Well OK then.” He taps his fingers against the cool metal. “Um…”

 

“Is there something you wanted?” Castiel snaps harshly, head tilting up to meet Dean's eyes. Dean takes a step back, mouth snapping shut. Cas immediately feels guilty. “Dean…,”

 

“No. It’s Ok. You’re busy. I understand,” Dean says coldly, turning on his heel and almost jogging in his haste to get away from Castiel.

 

“Dean!” He calls; the only answer he gets is the bang of a door slamming upstairs. The guilt at snapping at Dean eats him up inside, but he’ll be late for work if he goes after him. With a sigh, Castiel picks up his briefcase and leaves.

 

***

 

Today is just as stress inducing as yesterday. Castiel has sat through three consecutive meetings and has had two private consultations with important clients. On top of it all, the guilt at snapping at Dean sits firmly in the back of his mind. Castiel remembers Dean’s face--the look of hurt in his eyes before a wall came up and they closed off before he ran-- as he showed his final client out of his office.

 

It’s a half past eight at night when he catches himself for the third time, slumping down in his chair and nodding off. It was time to leave. He’d told his staff to leave an hour earlier so he, along with the janitors and security, was the only person left in the building. With another yawn, Cas turns off his computer and packs away his things. He leaves a sticky note for himself for tomorrow with some of the things that are top priority.

 

Castiel rubs his eyes as he takes the elevator down to the ground floor. His suit is new and there is something scratching him in the back of the neck. Castiel loosens his tie and runs a hand through his hair. Tomorrow is Saturday, the last day of the working week for him. He can last one more day.

 

Exiting the building Castiel locks the doors behind him. He pulls out his phone, checking to see if any more emails have come in in the time it took him to leave his office, ride the elevator down fifteen floors and out the door. Two have. Castiel leaves them. He’ll read them tomorrow.

 

Castiel walks back towards his house, he pulls out his wallet, ready to give the homeless people their couple dollars as usual. It was something Castiel did to make him feel a little bit better about himself and the world in which they live. And because he knows that no matter how bad he has it, they have it worse. Cas crosses the road and approaches the little congregation, the same place where he saw Dean for the first time. Three of the men are asleep but the other four are wide awake. “Hello,” Castiel greets them. They hold out their hands expectantly. Castiel places the change into their grubby hands. Mumbled thanks come from each of them. Cas continues on his way home.

 

Cas unlocks the door and steps inside his house, the kitchen light is still on and he takes this as a sign that Dean isn’t too mad at him still. Cas hesitantly enters the kitchen to find Mrs Singer. She looks disappointed in him. “Take a seat Castiel,” she says quietly. Cas obeys her, feeling like a child about to be scolded. Mrs Singer places a plate of spaghetti before him. “Eat.” Castiel does. She waits until he's eaten everything on the plate before she asks “Are you Ok?” coming to stand across from him at the marble breakfast bar. Castiel prepares himself to lie, to say ‘I’m fine’ like always. But the look that Mrs Singer gives him tells him that he better not even try.

 

“No,” he murmurs.

 

“I thought as much. It’s not like you to snap at Dean like you did. He was in a mood all day. Wouldn’t tell me why. I almost had to beat it out of that boy. He’s a stubborn one,” she says words coated in affection. Castiel can relate; he can just imagine Dean being exactly as Mrs Singer had said. It makes him sad that he was the one to make Dean upset.

 

“Is he still awake?” Castiel asks hesitantly. Mrs Singer shakes her head. Castiel sighs; he’d have to wait until the morning to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he tells Mrs Singer. She sighs.

 

“Castiel what’s going on?” Mrs Singer asks worriedly, coming to run a hand through Cas’ hair like a concerned mother would. Suddenly Castiel feels like crying, getting all the pent up emotions out. The stress has been taking over his life. For weeks he’s felt like he can’t eat properly without it coming straight back up. Sleeping has been near impossible. He’s had to wear himself out with a fifteen hour day and still he’s lying awake at night worrying over what he has to do the next day.

 

“The stress,” Castiel whispers, looking up into Mrs Singer’s worried face. “It’s too much. I can’t handle it,” Cas’ voice breaks. “I-I don’t know what to do,” a tear slips down his cheek. “I-I..” A sob chokes him up. Angrily he swipes a hand over his eyes, wiping away the tears he had _not_ given permission to fall. Mrs Singer pulls him into a hug. Castiel tries his best to keep the tears at bay and his sobs in his chest.

 

“Cry Castiel, you can’t keep everything to yourself. You’ll kill yourself. Let the emotions out. Let someone _in_ ,” she says into his hair. With her permission, Castiel cries. He cries like he hasn’t cried since he was a child. And he hasn’t. Castiel seriously can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to cry. He sobs into Mrs Singer’s shoulder until her uniform sticks to her skin with his tears.

 

“I’m sorry,” he sobs brokenly, pulling away. He’s sure his face is red and puffy, contrasting with the dark purple rings under his eyes. He’s a mess.

 

“It’s Ok to cry Castiel. It’s Ok to let people in too. You can talk to Dean and I, we’ll try to understand. We know it’s hard to run a million dollar company. I can’t imagine the kind of stress you're under. But you can’t keep everything inside,” Mrs Singer tells him, grabbing out her handkerchief to dab at his eyes, which are still leaking tears. He feels like a child again, except now he actually has a loving mother to wipe away his tears and tell him everything is going to be OK.

 

“I need help,” Castiel tells her, once he’s gotten over his emotions. “I shall arrange an appointment with a therapist. I am letting the stress get to me too much and I am working myself too hard,” Castiel confesses. His father would be so ashamed of him. He would tell Castiel that no Novak needs a therapist. Novak’s are strong. Leaders. Capable of anything and everything they put their minds to.

“Would you like me to organise one for you?” Mrs Singer asks, running a comforting hand through Cas’ hair again. He nods. “On your day off?” He nods again. “Ok. And about Dean…” she begins. Castiel’s shoulders slump. Dean. He has been so horrible to Dean these past few days. Dean has done nothing to wrong Cas and he’s been acting as if Dean wasn’t even there. “Explain to him what’s been going on. He’ll understand.”

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

“Of course I’m right!” Mrs Singer says indignantly, pulling a smile from Cas. “Now, get to bed!” she taps her hand to the side of Cas’ face affectionately. Castiel stands, places a kiss to her cheek and goes upstairs to bed. Feeling a little better about himself. Hopefully dean will understand.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Dean's POV**

Dean rolls around in his overly large bed. Usually he’s happy, thrilled even, with the luxury Cas has provided. But now, he feels awfully alone. Karen is great company, but he’s lonely in Castiel’s giant house. Not to mention bored. If he’s stationery for too long his thoughts eventually drift to Sam and he can’t allow himself to think about Sam. He’s taken to helping Karen with the housework despite her trying to bat him over the head with her duster. She tells him to go do _something_ , but what is there to do? He’s watched all of Castiel’s DVD’s and he can’t be bothered to go through Netflix. It looks too complicated and the last thing he needs is to break Cas’ TV too.

 

He stares at the ceiling; a stripe of moonlight paints it silver from between the gap in the curtains. It’s weird, being inside. After years of being out in the open at night, under the night sky where only the brightest stars are visible. It's been months but still Dean wonders if he'll ever get used to it.

 

Dean wonders what the few friends he’d made are doing at this moment. Would Abbadon still be giving hand jobs under the bar at Harvelle’s? Is Meg still whoring herself off on the corner by Little Angels Café? Dean hopes they find someone like Castiel, like he did, to help them get off the streets and back on their feet. Of course he’s not kidding himself; it was only luck that Castiel was walking by when he did, to help. And the only reason Dean was even still here is because Cas is a paranoid bastard and still thinks Dean is hurt. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll be kicking Dean out on his ass, right? His stomach gives an uncomfortable pull at that. Would Castiel really throw him out?  _Please God don't let him._

 

He feels hot and stuffy under the duvet and kicks one leg out irritably. Thoughts of Castiel throwing him out roll around in his mind. Glancing at the clock it tells him it’s creeping closer to twelve; he huffs out a breath and throws an arm over his eyes. Suddenly the urge to relieve his bladder overtakes him and before he knows it, Dean is stumbling down the hall in nothing but a pair of boxers.

 

Once done in the bathroom, he takes a detour downstairs to get a glass of water. It’s only then that he realises that he has an en suite. Stupid rich people and their stupid mini-bathrooms connected to their bedrooms. He didn’t even need to leave the room to go to the bathroom!

 

Shadows play at the walls and the back of Dean’s neck prickles as if someone is watching him. Obviously it’s just a trick of his mind. Too much time spent on the streets, forever watching his back--sleeping with one eye open--has made him jumpy. Even after staying with Cas for months. In the kitchen, Dean doesn’t even bother with turning on the light, he just pads over to the fridge, squinting at the sudden brightness from the light inside. “Dean?” a voice whispers from behind him. Slamming the door shut, he spins around, heart in his mouth. The voice seems to echo in the silence.

 

“Cas?!” he whisper yells, incredulously, squinting into the darkness the only light coming from the streetlight outside shining through the blinds, he can faintly make out the silhouette of the other man a couple of meters away. “Jesus Christ you nearly gave me a damn heart attack! What the hell are you doing up?” Dean exclaims throwing his hands up.

 

“I could ask the same of you,” Cas states. Even though Dean can’t see Cas’ face he knows that he would be smirking. Dean huffs, still mad at Castiel for snapping at him earlier. And not that he’d ever admit it to anyone else, but a little hurt that Castiel just _left_ afterwards. He hadn’t even apologized. Dean had been avoiding him since Castiel got home from work to show how just hurt and angry he was.

 

“Har har, very funny. But _seriously_! What the hell, man!” Dean’s heart is still galloping away; he places a hand to his chest in a vain attempt to restore it to its usual pace.

 

“I was getting a glass of water. What were you doing?” Cas answers, stepping closer to Dean.

 

“Same.” Dean can make out more of Castiel’s features now that he’s closer. He can see that Cas too is in pyjamas; long flannel pants and a tight singlet that is making Dean’s heart resume its gallop. Dean can also smell the soap Cas used in his shower and under that; cloves. Dean resists the urge to lean closer and take a deep whiff. That would be weird. _Is it getting hot in here?_ Dean can feel a bead of sweat roll down his back, between his shoulder blades. They stand in the darkness for a moment, the only sound their breathing. Dean’s about high tail it out of the kitchen when Cas takes a deep breath as if he’s gearing up to confess something big. Dean waits.

 

“Um, Dean?” Cas whispers, sounding almost afraid to break the tentative silence.

 

“What?”

 

There’s a pause.

 

“I wanted to apologise for the way I’ve been acting. It has been… unfair to you. I want you to know that I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says quietly, so quietly that Dean takes a step closer to hear him better, into that bubble of soap and cloves, the combination almost heady.

 

“It’s Ok, Cas,” Dean replies. Now, had he known that taking that one step closer would have put them almost chest to chest; Dean may not have taken it. Especially when he felt the gasp that Cas takes when he notices their close proximity. Neither move away. Dean’s heart is pounding and giant mutant butterflies have taken flight in his stomach, neither say anything. Apparently all the blood in his body has decided to migrate south, leaving Dean getting embarrassingly hard.

 

“Dean I want to explain…,” Cas begins, but all sense has left him, _who needs common sense anyway?_ Dean surges forward pressing his lips to Cas’. Cas freezes and Dean begins to panic, maybe Cas doesn’t want this. Maybe Dean’s misjudged this. Cas is probably straight and wants nothing to do with scum like him. Dean moves away, cheeks flaming with mortification. What-if’s and maybe’s swirl around in his mind. The main one: what if Cas kicks him out?

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says hoarsely. Moving away, he edges himself out of the kitchen. “I shouldn’t have done that.” For a moment all Cas does is stare. Dean takes that as disgust. Cas is disgusted with him. Dean runs.

 

He makes it to the bottom of the stairs when a hand clamps itself around his bicep and he’s being spun around and pushed into the wall. Needy lips pressed against his. Dean eagerly kisses back. Cas sucks Dean’s lower lip into his mouth, drawing a moan out of him. It’s been so long since anyone has touched him like this. Who knows what he could have caught out on the streets? And he wasn’t about to whore himself off. Dean runs his hands down Cas’ chest and under the hem of his singlet, fingers mapping out the firm muscles of his stomach. This seems to spur Cas on, who licks into Dean’s mouth. Dean moans again against Cas’ mouth, who presses himself closer to Dean. A jolt of excitement goes through Dean at the feeling of Cas’ erection pressing through the layers of pyjamas. “Dean,” Cas groans, his lips moving down to suck and nip at the skin below his jaw, Dean tilts his head to the side to give him better access. There was going to be a mark later and Dean does not care, if anything he holds Cas closer, urging him on.

 

“What?” Dean gasps, rutting into Cas’ body, seeking friction. The feeling of Cas’ lips and teeth and his neck combined with Cas’ warm body pressing into his is driving him crazy.

 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s throat. Dean chuckles.

 

“What took you so long?”

 

 Cas growls in reply, Dean feels the vibrations all the way to his bones, his excitement kicking up a notch. His fingertips press into Cas’ shoulders drawing him closer. He needs Cas closer. So much closer. He needs to feel Cas’ body on his. Cas seems to have the same thoughts, his hands working their way down Dean’s sides to the waistband of his boxers. Castiel’s fingers inch down the warm skin of Dean’s upper thighs, closer and closer to Dean’s crotch where his cock stands to attention. Dean’s eyes snap open. Obviously all this is leading to sex. And just like that, all the arousal begins to drain from his body.  

 

Dean had been caught up in the moment and now his senses have come rushing back into him like the tide on the shore. Cas palms his cock through the thin layer of cotton but Dean can’t feel anything but panic. His heart stutters in his chest. _No, this is too fast. Stop._ His hands snap to Cas’ wrists, he pulls them back from his rapidly softening dick. “Stop,” he stays quietly, staring at the ground. Immediately Castiel obliges, somewhat confused.

 

“What’s wrong Dean?” he asks, concerned, if a little hurt. Dean swallows his embarrassment down. He had to tell Cas. Cas would understand.

 

“Um, can we slow down a bit?” he whispers.

 

“Of course. Are you Ok?” Castiel disentangles his wrists from Dean’s grasp and cups Dean’s face, tilting his head so their eyes meet. Castiel’s frowning; trying to work out what he did that has made Dean so hesitant.

 

“Er… Can we just take this slow? I don’t wanna… just yet. You know?” Dean stammers. Realisation blooms in Castiel’s eyes and it makes Dean want to cringe.

 

“Is it your first time?” he asks, taking a small step away from Dean. He nods, he feels absolutely mortified. The tips of his ears burn and his hands tremble. Castiel, noticing Dean’s discomfort, places a light kiss to Dean’s lips and takes another step away. “Don’t worry. When you’re ready, Ok?” Dean nods. “Good night Dean,” Cas smiles and vanishes up the stairs, leaving Dean gaping after him.

 

***

 

Dean gasps into the pillow. His hand working furiously over his swollen cock. Once Dean got over his mortification he realised that Cas has left him so hard it almost physically hurts. Seriously, of all the things he could have done after Dean’s confession, leaving him standing at the bottom of the stairs in the middle of the night half hard was not one of them. Laughing was something Dean is more accustomed to.

 

Now he’s left whacking off to the mere thought of Cas in his bedroom. Sweat paints his brow and his fist clenches in the duvet, the other moving up and over the hot flesh between his legs. He thumbs over the slit, catching the pre-come and using it to lubricate his hand further. He groans, clenching his eyes shut, imaging Cas before him. Watching him. Getting on his knees. Taking Dean’s cock into his mouth. Blue eyes never leaving his. Dean comes over his fist, pleasure shuddering through his body. “Damn you Cas,” he gasps into the empty room. He falls asleep with a sated grin on his face.

 

***

 

Dean groans when he wakes up the next morning. His hand and boxers are flaky and gross with dried come. _Why didn’t I go clean up?_ He thinks, mentally slapping himself. _Idiot_. He stumbles into the en suite with the intent of a shower. Pausing by the mirror he spies the marks Cas left on his neck. He lets his finger trail lightly over the dark bruises. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Cas did this.

 

In clean clothes and freshly showered, Dean heads downstairs to see what Karen’s got cooking for breakfast. The smell of pancakes hits him before he even gets to the kitchen and Dean’s stomach rumbles in approval. He opens his mouth to praise Karen’s magical cooking skills, but it snaps shut when he sees a very tanned and very muscular back flipping pancakes. Nothing against Karen, but watching this very _male_ back flip pancakes is much more satisfying than well… her. “Cas, what’re you doing up? It’s like five thirty,” Dean questions, stepping into the kitchen like there could be a bomb concealed in any one of the kitchen cabinets just waiting to go off. Cas turns around and shoots Dean a little smile. He holds out a plate of perfectly golden pancakes out to Dean.

 

“Take these pancakes as a gesture of apology. I would like to speak to you for a moment before I have to go to work. Of course, only if you would be comfortable to…” Cas says, straightening up as if mustering courage from deep within him.

 

“Er, sure. Ok, Cas,” Dean mumbles, taking his pancakes over to the table before returning to the kitchen for maple syrup.

 

They eat quietly for a moment. Well, Dean eats but Cas more or less picks at his food. Dean frowns. Has Cas always eaten so little? He stares that the man before him. Sure he’s noticed how Cas has always been lean. But now he’s borderline skinny. His collarbones sticking out more prominently, his jaw more defined his eyes more… sunken. Speaking of his eyes, they’re ringed in darkness, as if Cas’ hadn’t been sleeping at all. “Are you Ok, Cas?” Dean asks quietly, staring at him intently. Cas pauses, staring at the plate for a moment. He glances up and Dean really _looks_ at him. Past the CEO bravado and the walls Castiel as put up to protect himself. He really truly looks at him. At the broken boy who’s had to shoulder so much responsibility.

 

“I would never lie to you, Dean and I don’t intend on starting now. No I am not Ok. But I am going to begin doing something about it. Sunday I shall be going to a personal appointment. Anyway. I wanted to talk about you. I understand you’re finding staying here during the day… boring?” Cas says propping his chin on his hand, turning big blue eyes on Dean. Who raises an eyebrow. What is this about?

 

“Yeah, it can be a bit boring here every now and again. Why?” He confesses forking another mouthful of maple syrup drowned pancake into his mouth.

 

“Well, if I find time today. I’ll make some phone calls and see if I could possibly get you a job at Singer’s Salvage Yard. You seem to enjoy cars. I thought that maybe you would enjoy working with them?” Cas says shyly, not knowing how Dean would react to such a preposition. As he speaks, Dean’s eyes widen. _Holy shit, I could work on cars? Get all covered in grease, be able to take apart a car and piece it back together brand new?_ He gapes.

 

“Really?” he squeaks. Cas nods. “Holy shit Cas! Yes, please. I mean, wow that would be awesome!” He jumps up from his seat and skips around the table to throw his arms around a very startled Castiel. “Thank you!” he exclaims, hugging Cas tight. It takes a moment, but slowly, Cas’ arms come to circle around Dean’s waist. Dean leans closer, inhaling at Cas’ neck. He’d never get used to Cas’ smell. Cloves, soap and just him. He presses a kiss to the juncture of Cas’ neck. He pulls back, grinning like a maniac. But Cas’ eyes are focused elsewhere. His neck. Dean feels a blush break out across his cheeks. Cas is looking at the marks on his neck. The marks _he_ made. Last night. Dean clears his throat. “Right, um you’ve got work to do… upstairs and I’ve got… stuff to do. So I’ll er let you get to it,” Dean stutters. Picking up his plate and exiting the dining room. Never noticing the smirking Karen Singer standing by the entryway; watching everything. She smiles to herself. Maybe they’ll finally pull their heads out of their butts and wake up to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the bit of smut in this chapter be sure to comment or kudos! :D


	9. Chapter 9

** Cas’ POV **

“Mr Singer? It’s Castiel Novak, how are you today?” Castiel twirls the cord of his office phone around his finger. He’s finally gotten a moment to himself and now he intends to uphold his promise to Dean.

 

“Novak. What can I do for you?” Comes Robert Singer’s gruff reply.

 

“I have a preposition for you that I would like you to consider,” Castiel says, eyes flicking to his computer screen. He clicks open his email: 54 New Emails. He suppresses his sigh.

 

“It’s about that kid, ain’t it?” Bobby asks, suspiciously. Castiel rubs his fingers over his eyes; it’s not going to be as easy as he thought to get Dean the job.

 

“It is about Dean, yes,” Castiel acknowledges. He waits for a moment, but its clear Bobby is saying no more. “He’s very enthusiastic about cars. He’s a quick learner and I can assure you he will be no trouble, he’s an honest man. Mr Singer please if you could give him a chance, you won’t regret it,” Castiel tries, shifting into what Mrs Singer calls ‘business mode’.

 

“Karen has been hounding me about it. We’ll see how he goes. Drop him off Monday morning and by the end of the day I’ll tell ya if I want him or not. Deal?”

 

“Thank you, Mr Singer for giving Dean this chance. It really means a lot.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Bobby says, hanging up. Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief a smile breaking out on his face. Anticipation to see Dean’s reaction when he tells him the good news keeps him in high spirits for the rest of the day.

 

***

 

Castiel almost runs home once five thirty rolls around. He skips up the front steps and throws open the front door. He forces himself to slow down once inside the house, but inside his heart is galloping. “Dean?” he calls out, walking into the kitchen; it’s empty. With a small frown, he goes into the lounge room. That too is empty. “Dean?” he tries again. His hands tap restlessly against his sides as he takes the stairs two at a time. Castiel searches the library, his room, the bathroom, his study before reaching Dean’s room.

 

The door is closed. He pauses, raising a hand to knock. _Maybe he’s asleep._ He reasons with himself, dropping his hand. He takes a step away from the door. _He could be in trouble. Something could have happened._ He wages a mental war with himself. He shifts from foot to foot. _Screw it!_ He raps twice on the door. A scuffle and muffled exclamation replies. Castiel raises an eyebrow. “Dean?” he asks again. The door swings open and he’s met with blood shot eyes and tear stained cheeks. Castiel gasps in surprise, a hand coming up to hesitantly cup Dean’s face. “Are you Ok Dean? What’s wrong?” he whispers. Dean shakes his head and throws himself into Castiel’s arms. Castiel holds Dean as he sobs into his chest, whispering soothing words into his hair.

 

After a couple minutes Dean calms down somewhat, the tears stop falling and he pulls himself away from Cas. “I’m sorry,” he apologises, clasping his shaking hands together, eyes on his bare feet.

 

“Don’t apologise, tell me what’s wrong? Are you Ok? Dean?” Castiel coddles him, stepping forward and holding Dean’s head in his hands. Blue eyes meeting green.

 

“Sam,” Dean whispers simply. Castiel’s confused. _Who’s Sam? What does this Sam have to do with anything?_ Instead of bombarding him with questions, Castiel grabs Dean’s hand and pulls him downstairs. He pulls Dean down onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around Dean’s shoulders.

 

“Who’s Sam?” he asks quietly. Dean doesn’t reply straight away, instead he keeps his eyes firmly on the blank TV screen. Cas waits patiently for Dean to respond.

 

“My brother. It’s been ten years since I last saw him. Today actually is the day…” he trails off, a tear dripping onto the blanket pulled up to his chin. Dean makes a little pained sound and Cas can feel his heart breaking a little. He pulls Dean towards him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders. He can feel Dean trying not to cry. The shallow breaths, the clenching of his fists. Castiel has no idea what Dean is going though. Obviously Dean was close with his brother and for him to have been gone for so long has torn him up inside. The only thing Cas can do is hold him while he reigns in his emotions.

 

***

After a while Dean pulls back, blushing. He keeps his eyes turned towards the floor. Castiel sighs and Dean flicks his eyes up. “Talk to me, Dean,” Cas says quietly. Dean holds eye contact for a moment; there are so many emotions swirling around in his eyes, Cas can’t pinpoint exactly what he’s feeling. Sadness, guilt, embarrassment, gratefulness.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Dean rasps his throat raw.

 

“I don’t know. Tell me about Sam. Tell me what you’re feeling. I want to help you, but I can’t unless you let me,” Cas pleads ignoring how hypocritical the words are and grabbing Dean’s hands and squeezing. Dean pulls away, moving as far away as he can get on the couch. It hurts Cas to see Dean’s protective walls that have slowly been crumbling being put back together, his face goes blank.

 

“Fine. I’ll tell you. My parents are dead. Have been for decades. I’ve had to look after Sammy alone. But shit got hard. I dropped outta high school, worked two jobs but I couldn’t _do_ it. We got evicted from our little piece of shit apartment and we had nowhere to go. I kept working to keep Sammy in school,” Dean took a breath, keeping his eyes on his hands, his fingers shaking. “We bounced around soup kitchens, friends places and other joints for about a year and a half then someone musta realised that Sammy was a minor. Shit he was scrawny, looked around seven even though he was eleven. He was so smart though. Anyway someone musta called the Child Protection Services or something, I don’t really know. I just know that one day the cops swarmed us and Sam was gone. I was legal so they just left me. Sam told me that everything is going to be Ok. I shoulda been the one sayin’ that to him… I’m going to find him. One day. I will! He turned twenty one in May. I bet he’s in college now. He always dreamed of being a lawyer. And that’s about it. I haven’t heard from him since. It’s probably for the best. He doesn’t need a piece of shit like me to fuck his life up any more,” Dean stared right into Cas’ eyes, grim determination and belief lighting them up from within.

 

Cas is speechless. Obviously Dean has had a hard life but he never expected something as bad as this. “Dean I am so sorry but I disagree with you. You are not a piece of shit,” he says sincerely. Dean’s eyes harden.

 

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t need it,” he bites, standing. Cas looks up as him confused. Had he said something wrong? “Dean?” He reaches up to pull Dean down beside him.

 

“Stop. Just don’t. I’m fine. Just… I need to sleep. Ok? Good night,” Dean says, swiping a hand through his hair, eyes pleading with Cas to understand. Cas stares at him for a moment before he nods in defeat. He wants to argue, fight with Dean to make him understand that now he has people who care about him. He cares about Dean. Mrs Singer cares about Dean and Cas is sure that Sam must also care about Dean.

 

“Good night, Dean,” he says instead.

 

***

 

Castiel picked at his dinner alone that night. He never got to tell Dean about the job at Singer’s Salvage Yard. It is Thursday and Castiel is going over the day’s schedule. He’s dreading two o’clock. The Adler interview. Becky informed him that Mr Adler was happy to accept the interview time the other day and while Castiel politely thanked her he was secretly annoyed that he would have to deal with the man.

 

He grabbed the file with all of the information on Adler’s business. The ledgers and account information all said that he would profit from turning his business into a franchise. However he needed to cut back on some things. He isn’t looking forward to telling Adler this. Castiel glanced at the clock on the wall. He had five minutes until two o’clock. He sighs; standing, Adler would be waiting for him in the waiting room. Best to start now and get him out of the way.

 

Castiel feels like banging his head against his desk. Mr Zachariah Adler is the most infuriating man on the planet. _Now_ he apparently does _not_ want to expand his business. It took Castiel half an hour to try and explain that it would _benefit_ him if he did. But the man would simply not listen. Somehow it turned into Adler ranting about how Godfrey Novak would never lead a client astray and that Castiel is going a terrible job at running the firm. Castiel just remained quiet and surreptitiously looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until he could politely tell Adler that their time is up.

 

When three o’clock rolled around Castiel said as regretfully as he could muster, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr Adler but our time is up. I have a meeting now. Would you agree that we have come to a conclusion here? Or would you require another private consultation?”

 

Adler looked at him, eyes narrowed, “I suppose we’re done here. You had better not be leading me astray Mr Novak.” Castiel smiled what he hoped is reassuringly.

 

“I assure you, I am not, Sir.” Adler left shortly after that. Castiel lead him to the elevator, keeping his smile firmly in place. Once the elevator doors closed behind Adler he let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

 

“Thank God he’s gone,” he mutters to himself. The recently bought packet of clove cigarettes sitting in his top desk drawer is becoming rather appealing right this moment. Castiel had given up smoking, but when his stress levels get high, he finds himself itching for a smoke. He turns, intending to go back to his office when applause stops him. Becky, Bela and Jody—his three secretaries on this floor are all standing and applauding him. He smiles ruefully. “What’s this?”

 

“For how well you handled that horrible man,” Jody says with a grin.

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel asks walking over to the desk the ladies are standing behind.

 

“Your father generally palmed him off to someone else,” Becky says. Castiel rolls his eyes; of course that’s what his father had done. He’d never had been able to handle Adler. He would have thrown him through a window or something.

 

“Thank you, ladies,” he says, smiling. They sit back down, intending to get back to work. Castiel turns to leave, but pauses. “You can all leave at the normal time today. Tell everyone.”

 

***

  
With everyone leaving at five, Castiel was again, left alone in the office. What he didn’t expect was a phone call. He took the pen out from between the corner of his lips and answered hesitantly, “Yes?”

 

“Sorry to bother you Sir, but there’s a young man at the doors, says his name is Dean Winchester. Do you know him?” One of his security guards asks. Castiel frowns, what is Dean doing here?

 

“Yes, send him up.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Dean’s POV**

_What am I doing?_ Dean shouts at himself. He’s been knocking on the glass doors to Novak  & Co. Accounting for about five minutes when a burly security guard appears behind the glass. He glares at Dean making a ‘go away’ motion with his hand. “I need to see Castiel Novak,” Dean says loudly enough to be heard through the glass. He guy raises an eyebrow, before shaking his head ‘no’. Dean huffs, before trying again, “My name is Dean Winchester. I live with him. Please I need to see him.” The security guard glares at him for a moment more before pulling out a phone. He turns around and talks quietly for a moment. The guy turns back giving Dean a suspicious look; Dean tries to look as innocent and harmless as possible. The security guard walks over to a panel by the doors, sliding in a key card and punches in a code. He ushers Dean inside and over to the elevator once the door opens.

 

“He’s in his office on the top floor,” the security guard says as the doors to the elevator closes and then Dean is alone. Dean shifts nervously. He didn’t really have all that much of a plan coming here. It was sort of a heat of the moment decision. He just had to tell Castiel how sorry he was for going all diva. He could see how stressed out Cas was already, he didn’t need Dean shoving his shit onto him too.

 

The elevator doors slide open with the cheery _ding_. Dean steps out, looking around the humanless space. The lights are on and Dean can clearly see Castiel’s office from where he’s standing motionless by the elevator. He picks his way past a long desk, that Dean assumes is where Cas’ secretaries work. As he approaches the door, the nerves that he had been carefully supressing come charging back with renewed vigour. Swallowing, he lifts a shaking hand to the closed door, knocking twice. Castiel opens the door almost immediately, looking dishevelled and tired, “Dean, what’re you doing here?” he asks curiously, stepping back and letting Dean enter his office.

 

Dean walks in, hands fumbling together, he gazes over the office. He hears the click of the door being closed behind him. The office itself is sparsely furnished, only having the bare necessities for the job unlike in the movies where CEO’s have grand portraits of themselves hanging on the wall and etc. “I ah… wanted to talk to you,” he says softly, turning to face Cas. Castiel stares back at him—hands on his hips and brow quirked—his shirt is untucked and his tie is loosened. He looks nothing like the highly skilled accountant Dean knows him to be.

 

“Really? You couldn’t wait for me to return home?” Cas asks, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he yawns.

 

“I didn’t know when you’d be home. You work so late now,” Dean says honestly. Cas tilts his head to the side, seemingly confused before dropping his gaze to the floor. He nods. Dean frowns, Castiel looks absolutely exhausted. He’s working himself into the ground. He’s been losing weight and soon Dean wouldn’t be surprised to see grey hair amongst the dark locks.

 

“I know. I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas murmurs quietly, meeting Dean’s gaze. Dean huffs.

 

“Cas I want you to stop being sorry and do something about it! You’re killing yourself!” Dean almost shouts, the anger appearing seemingly out of nowhere. No, not nowhere, it’s been there sitting in the back of his mind gradually growing with intensity with every meal he has to eat alone and every hour that Cas works overtime. He’s not angry at Cas. He could never truly be angry at Cas. He’s angry with the poor way Cas is treating himself. The world doesn’t need him to make sure it keeps spinning. It’s doing fine on its own. Just like the company will if Cas takes a break every now and then. But no, Castiel insists on taking too much responsibility that isn’t his in the first place. Castiel jumps at Dean’s raised voice, head tilting down like a scolded child.

 

“I _am_ doing something,” Cas insists, “I’ve got an appointment… with a therapist,” he says as if that will solve all his problems. Dean storms over to him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look into Dean’s eyes, just like Cas did in the beginning when Dean refused to look at him.

 

“Do you really? Or are you just saying that to console me? I wanna know Cas, I care about you! Maybe more than you care about yourself,” Dean says, the anger in his voice draining away the more he speaks. Cas stares at him for a while, not answering. “Please don’t be lying to me Cas,” Dean whispers.

 

“I’m not,” Cas replies quietly. “I’ll never lie to you.”

 

Then Dean is pressing himself into Cas. His lips against Cas’, his chest, hips, everywhere. He pulls Cas to him.

 

Kisses him.

 

Holds him.

 

And then Cas is pulling back. Dean whines in confusion, “What…?” he whispers. Cas shakes his head.

 

“Are you sure about this?” He asks hesitantly, wanting Dean’s full consent. Understanding blooms in Dean’s eyes. He nods vigorously. Then Cas’ arms are wrapping around Dean, his hands sliding up his back. Their mouths work, tongues mingling together. Cas walks Dean backwards, over to one of the two faux leather chairs for his clients. He pushes Dean down before moving to straddle his lap. Both are breathing harshly. Dean’s eyes roam over Cas, his fingers trembling as he unbuttons Castiel’s dress shirt. He flings it to the ground. Then his hands are mapping out the lean muscles of Cas’ chest, he can feel Cas’ erection growing and eagerly grinds up into Cas’ crotch inciting a breathless moan. Cas sucks and nibbles at Dean’s neck as he begins to tug at Dean’s shirt. Dean lifts his arms and in seconds the band tee receiving the same treatment as Cas’ dress shirt.

 

Cas ruts against Dean’s now painfully hard cock. He gasps as Cas’ lips make their way to his ear, nibbling on the lobe, his nimble fingers working open the button on Dean’s jeans. Dean wriggles a little, lifting his hips to help Cas pull the jeans down. His eyes widen at Dean’s lack of underwear. Dean shrugs, leaning up to suckle at Cas’ jaw. Castiel arches his neck back, allowing Dean more room, his eyes fluttering shut. Cas rolls his hips down onto Dean’s groin, the friction from Cas’ slacks rubbing over his cock making him curse in pleasure. Dean’s fingers sloppily work their way to the button and fly on Cas’ pants, eager to get them off and feel Cas’ naked skin against his own.

 

Cas shifts; he crawls off Dean leaving him panting and confused. His arm reach out to grab Cas; pull him back, but Cas just takes a step backward; a mischievous smirk on his face. Dean watches in awed silence as Cas slowly, pulls the pants from his legs, letting them slip down nearly an inch at a time. He turns, giving Dean a full view of his ass as he hooks his fingers in the belt loops and lets them drop to the ground. He glances over his shoulder, biting on the corner of his lip as he innocently tucks his thumbs in the band of his briefs and pulls them off. Dean nearly comes then and there. “You better get that sexy ass back here right now,” he growls out. Cas just chuckles, walking the two steps back to Dean agonizingly slowly.

 

Resuming his position on Dean’s lap, Cas grinds his now—thankfully—naked cock down on Dean’s, the friction making them both moan out loud. Dean leans forward, capturing Cas’ lips in a crushing kiss as Cas continues to move his hips in a circular motion, pre-come smearing between their abdomens. Without breaking the kiss, Dean reaches between them taking both their dicks in a loose fist. He begins moving his hand up and down in a steady rhythm.

 

It didn’t take long before Cas was moaning into the crook of Dean’s neck and Dean was spitting out dirty, dirty things in Cas’ ear. “You like that Cas?” Dean whispers, breath hot against the shell of his ear. Castiel was inclined to agree that the fist steadily jerking him off is the best thing he’s felt in years. The slip of Dean’s dick against his, the smear of liquid over his tummy, Dean’s thumb occasionally rubbing over his slit. “You gonna come Cas? C’mon,” Dean hisses, gripping their cocks harder; pumping faster.

 

Castiel’s whole body locks up, every muscle tensing, his breath stutters, and his eyes close and then stars are erupting behind his eyelids. Pleasure shoots through every inch of his body reducing him to a gasping mess in Dean’s lap. Castiel is vaguely aware of Dean coming under him. Both their come painting their abdomen in white streaks but Castiel cannot find it in himself to give a damn. He lets his head rest against Dean’s shoulder while he catches his breath. “Holy hell,” he murmurs, eyes peaking open. He can now see that Dean has his head leant back against the back of the chair, eyes closed and a content smile on his face.

 

***

 

After five or so minutes Dean begins to grumble about ‘cleanliness’ and Castiel is forced to get up and go in search of tissues. He’s acutely aware of Dean’s eyes on his bare ass as he bends over the desk. Cas can’t help but sway his hips a little, just for Dean’s enjoyment.

 

Once their cleaned up and re-dressed, Dean pulls Castiel back down onto his lap. He holds Cas’ hands tight as he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, the barest brush of tongue. “You know,” Cas says quietly, pulling back to meet Dean’s gaze.

 

“What?” Dean asks.

 

“Well, I spoke to Robert Singer about a job opportunity at his salvage yard. If you would like, you can go for a trial run on Monday. Mr Singer said that he would know by the end of the day whether he wants to hire you or not. Would you like that?” Castiel says shyly, fingers nervously picking at the hem of Dean’s shirt. Dean doesn’t say anything for a moment and Cas looks up, scared that Dean would be annoyed with him, or even angry. Dean’s mouth is slightly open, he looks like a goldfish.

 

“Cas, wow, I… thank you. I would like that a lot,” Dean manages, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist. He peppers Castiel’s neck with kisses until Cas is wriggling and laughing.

 

“I’m glad you’re happy. Mrs Singer thought that you would really enjoy working with cars.”

 

“I’m so happy, Cas. Thank you so much.”

 

***

 

Dean waited patiently as Castiel packed away his things. Castiel zipped up his laptop bag and let out a sigh of relief, “Done. We can go now.”

 

“Woo hoo,” Dean says with a cheeky grin. Cas rolls his eyes, walking over to where Dean’s sprawled out in the chair they just fucked on. Cas stared at the chair for a moment. Dean looks between him and the chair. That grin stays firmly in place. Now every time he looks at the chair, Castiel is going to see Dean under him, his tanned skin flushed and sweat beading at his brow his lips parted. He shakes his head to get the image out, holding up his hand for Dean to take, they leave the office hand in hand.

 

By the time they get home, Castiel is exhausted. He’s hungry and tired but strangely enough. He’s happy. There’s only one reason why he’s happy. Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some technical difficulties with my laptop as of late. So there is going to be a pause in the updates for the next few weeks, sorry guys. I hope you'll keep reading when I can start uploading again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my slight hiatus! Thank you for your patience, updates will be back to usual until further notice.

To say Castiel is nervous about going to his appointment on Sunday is an understatement. He sits in the waiting room with a sense of trepidation. The realisation that he can’t control what’s going to happen once he gets inside the office with his psychologist scares the crap out of him. Mrs Singer offered to wait with him, but he joked that they shouldn’t leave Dean home alone for extended periods of time. So now he’s alone and nervous as hell.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the receptionist calls his name and says that ‘Pam is ready for you now’. He quickly thanks her and walks down the hall. He knocks on the door before entering. The room is practically empty aside from a couch where, in his office, two chairs for clients normally sat. A desk sits opposite the couch and awards litter the walls. A woman sits behind the desk, she looks up with a cheery smile as he shuffles awkwardly into the room.

“Castiel Novak, how are you?” she asks happily, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. He sinks down, letting out a shaky breath.

“I feel fine, slightly nervous, but fine,” he answers, trying to smile reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite. I’m Pam. It’s nice to meet you,” Pamela says, holding out a hand for Castiel to shake. Castiel takes it, before settling back into the soft cotton cushions behind his back. “Now, I want you to tell me about something that made you happy this week,” Pam says almost out of the blue. Castiel blinks at her for a moment. After filling out the various paperwork and questionnaires he’d imagine that Pam would have started with something else. Like maybe talking about the company or his father or his brothers or the crushing burden that is all three. He wasn’t going to question it though. She’s the one with the degree in psychology, not him.

“Well,” he starts before clearing his throat. Really the only thing that made him happy this week was Dean’s visit to the office on Thursday and somehow he doesn’t think Pam will really want to know all the details on that occasion. “Dean visited the office the other day.”

“He did? Well that must have been nice. How would you describe your relationship with Dean?” Pam questions, pen poised to quickly write out his answer.

“We’re… friends,” Castiel says awkwardly feeling his cheeks heat. Pam gives him a little smile as she writes out some notes on her page.

“I see, are you sure about that though?”

“We’re just friends,”  _even though I’d like it to be more_.

***

As it turns out, his appointment wasn’t all that terrifying. It was quite fine actually. Castiel isn’t naïve enough to think that every time he returns is going to be as painless as this time. Eventually they’ll work their way into the heavy stuff. Castiel thinks about what he and Pam spoke about during the hour he was in her office on his drive home. Mostly they spoke about Dean and Mrs Singer. He remembers the look Pam gave him when he told her that he and Dean were just friends. She believes him like a hole in the head. Not at all. But she didn’t question him about it.

When he pulls up in the driveway, instead of getting out straight away, Castiel lingers in his BMW, just staring at his house. It is a nice house. All grey walls with a black front door and brass knocker. There is a small garden by the side of his house with various herbs in it that Mrs Singer must have planted (because Castiel can’t even manage to keep the grass growing).

Slowly, he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out, taking his time reaching the front door. Castiel almost jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he even touches the handle. Dean stands before him in just boxer shorts and a tee shirt, “You’re home! How did it go? Good? Do you need a drink? I can get you a drink. What about food? You hungry? I can get Karen to make you something…” Dean says rapidly. Castiel smirks at him as Dean steps aside to let him in.

“I’m fine. It was fine. It wasn’t too bad, we talked a bit about Mrs Singer and you actually,” Castiel tells him as they walk into the lounge room.

“Really?” Dean asks, throwing himself down on the couch. Castiel nods, sitting down too.Dean picks up the remote and hands it to Cas, “What’d you wanna watch? I haven’t really gotten onto Netflix yet. I don’t wanna break it,” Dean says quietly, like he’s ashamed. Castiel waves him off.

“Do you want to go somewhere? For a drive maybe?” Castiel suggests. Dean’s face lights up.

“Yes please. Just let me put on some pants,” Dean says, almost running out of the living room and up the stairs, Castiel’s eyes remaining on Dean’s very fine backside. His brain providing a very nice fantasy about what that butt would look like without the boxers.

***

They wind the windows down, much to Castiel’s distaste. The feeling of the air whipping past your ears and the smells of the open highway; exhaust fumes, road kill and bitumen aren’t things that Cas particularly enjoys. However, the look of joy on Dean’s face is. After his little episode during the week, it is nice to see him smiling again.

 

They drive in silence, Cas getting them further and further away from the city. After a while, Dean begins fiddling with the stereo of Cas’ BMW, flicking through the stations until he lands on one he likes. A song that Cas doesn’t recognise begins to play and Dean’s grin widens. He leans back in his seat, humming along. Castiel listens to the lyrics;  _Live and learn from fools and from sages, You know it’s true, All the things come back to you_.

 

And before he knows it, he’s tapping along to the beat. He doesn’t listen to a lot of music. Nothing could have prepared him for Dean’s singing. It started quietly. But just like when he was singing AC/DC in the kitchen those few months ago, if grows steadily louder.

 

“Dream on, dream on, dream on. Dream until you dream come true! Come on Cas sing too,” Dean exclaims.

“I don’t know the lyrics,” Cas replies, eyes flicking over to Dean.

 

“They’re the same. Dream on, dream on, dream on. Dream until you dream come true!” Dean bellows. Castiel smirks, as Dean plays the air guitar, “Dream on, Dream on, Dream on, Dream on  _Dream on Dream on_   _Dream on! Wahhh,”_  Dean’s voice rises to a pitch that has Cas’ teeth on edge and him gripping the steering wheel in white knuckled fists. He was not expecting that at  _all_.

 

“What was that?” Cas asks once the song is over and has moved onto something less ear piecing should Dean decide to sing along.

 

“Dream on. Aerosmith. Steven Tyler. Why?” Dean asks assuming nonchalance. He’s pretty convincing, save for the twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes.

“You know exactly what,” Cas answers, narrowing his eyes in mock annoyance.

 

“Aw Cas, you love my singing,” Dean pouts, turning overly exaggerated puppy-dog eyes on him. Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean’s antics.

 

***

 

They drive until the sun begins to make its descent on the horizon. Dean has been staring out the window with a peaceful look of content on his face for the past half hour and as Cas heads for home, he thinks not for the first time of letting one hand release its hold on the steering wheel and grab Deans.

 

He lets his eyes stray from the road to rake over Dean before returning again. Dean doesn’t see him, too engrossed with watching the scenery.  _C’mon Castiel!_  He psyches himself up. He lets out a steadying breath before placing a hand on his thigh. Dean doesn’t move. Slowly, Castiel inches his hand closer to Dean and holding his breath, he makes a grab for Dean’s hand where it rests on the seat by his thigh. Castiel feels Dean’s body stiffen and he holds his breath waiting for Dean to shake him off. Instead he does the opposite; he threads their fingers together and lets a thumb trace over the back of Castiel’s knuckles. Castiel relaxes and lets a small smile grace his face.

 

They continue on their way home as comfortable as they had before Castiel had grasped Dean’s hand.

 

***

 

When they reach Cas’ house, Mrs Singer had already left. There was however a note taped to the fridge reading:  _I hope you boys had fun on your drive. I left a pasta bake in the oven, Castiel I trust you to heat it up for you both. Be safe. See you both tomorrow. Karen._  Castiel reads it aloud and Dean lets out an undignified snort of laughter at the ‘be safe’. Castiel can’t help but flush, knowing  _exactly_ what Mrs Singer was referring to. She’s not such a sweet old lady like she’d have people believe.

He distracts himself by readying the pasta bake. Dean looks on over his shoulder, staying close enough to Cas for him to be able to feel the heat radiating off the other man. He supresses a shiver of surprised pleasure. Praying to any God that’s listening to help keep the tight coiling of heat in his lower abdomen to himself. The last thing he needs is to pop a boner in the kitchen like some horny teenager.

 

Especially when the pasta bake is sufficiently heated and they’re seated. Dean takes the first bite and lets out an unholy moan of enjoyment, letting his eyes flutter shut. Castiel grins, carving up his helping into little bite sized portions. Dean wolfs his food down as per usual, moaning and repeating over and over ‘This. This is my favourite’. Castiel snickers to himself.

 

“Should I give you two a moment?” he alludes. Dean nearly drops his fork, head snapping up and he bites out a slightly muffled (thanks to the food in his mouth):

 

“No.”

 

“Manners, Dean,” Castiel reminds him, gesturing to the food hanging from Dean’s mouth. Dean flushes and apologises. It’s only now that Castiel realises that Dean is practically finished his meal and Castiel barely taken a mouthful. He frowns to himself. Maybe this is something to talk about with Pam. He makes a mental note to discuss it with her at his next meeting.

 

“You OK Cas?” Dean asks quietly, bringing him out of his thoughts, he zones back in to see Dean staring at him intently. Cas nods, daintily taking a mouthful of the pasta bake into his mouth. “Sure?” Dean presses, raising a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Quite. Would you consider watching a movie with me?” Castiel changes the subject, glancing away quickly.

 

“Yeah!” Dean says happily, takinghis plate to the sink and practically jogging to the living room, he sits himself on the couch and gets comfortable as Castiel cleans away the dirty dishes and places the left overs into the fridge.

 

  
By the time Castiel reaches the kitchen, Dean has chosen a movie and has it p aused at the opening scene. He sits down beside Dean, careful to leave a small gap between them. Of which Dean quickly disperses of, sidling up to Castiel and tucks a blanket over them. He rests his head on Castiel’s shoulder, pressing ‘play’.   


  
_ Three of a kind, let’s do this… _  Castiel settles into watching The Dark Knight. Castiel is shocked to say the least. Pleasantly shocked, as Dean burrows himself further into Cas’ side, effectively using him as a human pillow. He relaxes into Dean, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, letting his fingers brush lightly over Dean’s shoulder.   


 

They watch the movie in silence. Castiel rests his hands in his lap atop the blanket. About twenty minutes in Dean’s hand comes up and pulls his hands down tucking them under the blanket where he holds them, rubbing a thumb over the back of Castiel’s knuckles. Castiel raises an eyebrow, but Dean stays focused on the movie. A slight smirk turning up the corners of his lips. Castiel rolls his eyes, concentrating back on the movie.

 

***

 

The next thing Castiel knows, he’s opening his eyes to a dark room, the movie long over and replaying the theme music on the start-up screen. With a yawn, Castiel decides that it’s time for bed. Cas glances down at Dean fondly, his head rests mostly on Castiel’s chest and his whole body is tucked firmly against his. Castiel chuckles and brushes a hand over the side of Dean’s face. “Dean?” Castiel whispers nudging Dean slightly. “Time for bed,” he says to the unconscious man.

 

“No, sleep… here,” Dean mutters, his voice making Cas jump; startled. So much for Dean being asleep. Castiel shakes his head, running his fingers through Dean’s hair; Dean almost purring at that.

 

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel urges sleepily, attempting to get out from under Dean. It does not work. Dean grabs Castiel’s waist, holding him in place. Castiel makes a noise of annoyance. “Dean,” he says a little firmer, not quite his ‘CEO voice’, but firm enough to let Dean understand that he’s joking around.

 

“Fine,” Dean whines, retracting his arms so Cas can escape. Once Castiel is standing, he stretches his back like a cat, wincing at the various pops. With a backward glance at Dean he sees the other man curling back up.

 

“Come on. Bed. This couch will destroy your back,” Castiel warns him. Dean’s eyes flick open and he looks up at Cas in what only could be described as a pleading. Castiel rolls his eyes, leaning down to pulls Dean up by his arms. Once Dean is standing they shuffle out of the living room and towards the stairs. Dean rests heavily against Castiel, his hand trailing up the banister, his feet thumping on the wooden steps. There is no way he’s completely awake.

 

Once they reach the top, Castiel’s grip on Dean’s wrist tightens and he pulls Dean towards his bedroom. Dean follows along. Once Castiel gets the door open, Dean walks himself over to the bed and collapses; face first on it moaning appreciatively. Cas smiles, turning around to strip out of his day clothes in favour of a soft tee shirt and clean boxers, when he turns back, Dean is asleep again. Castiel takes it upon himself to get Dean comfortable for bed. He tugs off Dean’s jeans and folds them on the dresser, Dean mumbles his thanks having woken up sometime around when Castiel had his jeans half around his ankles.

 

When Castiel is settled under the covers, Dean crawls and wriggles his way up the King sized bed and under the covers, snuggling against Cas’ side. Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulders, closing his eyes. He falls asleep listening to Dean’s breaths.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked how disgustingly domestic this chapter ended up being, gimme a comment :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly early update, there's going to be another one for Halloween. A special one filled with smut. Enjoy!

** Dean’s POV **

In the morning Dean wakes up in a different bed. His eyes cracked open, confused at first as to why the sun was shining into his eyes. He always had the curtains closed. The sun is not his friend in the mornings. Reaching up he stretched like a cat, arching his back. He turns his head to the side he sees a mop of dark hair not three inches away from his face. Eyes travelling down he notices Cas body sprawled across the duvet. His arm half flung across Dean’s torso. Dean smiles, carefully extracting himself from Cas’ grasp. He tip toes down the stairs on a mission to find some coffee.

Not ten minutes later, Castiel jogs down the stairs, freshly showered and half-dressed in a suit. His jacket is slung over one arm and his tie hangs untied around his neck. Dean stares, unabashedly, at Castiel’s butt (because seriously that suit should be illegal, it frames Castiel’s bottom and accentuates his tapered hips and just goddamn) as he moves past to reach the coffee. Karen is wiping down the countertop from the breakfast she’s just made. She smiles and greets Castiel warmly. “Hello, Mrs Singer,” Cas smiles, grabbing a waffle from the plate that’s been laid out. He strolls back to Dean, his mug and food in hand. “Are you excited about your first day at Mr Singer’s garage?” he addresses Dean.

 Dean takes a large gulp of the almost scalding hot coffee before answering. “Yes, nervous though,” Dean fiddles with the handle of his mug, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. In truth, he’s creeping closer to a nervous breakdown. He can’t do this. What if he fucks up? Just like he fucked everything else up. These pessimistic thoughts have plagued him since the moment he’d be coherent enough to realise that today is indeed Monday and that means that it’s the first day at Singer’s Auto and Salvage Yard. He’s drawn out of his thoughts by a warm hand covering his own. Dean looks up to find Castiel staring at him, confidence and affection on his eyes.

 “Don’t worry. I have faith that you will be fine. You’ll be OK Dean. I promise,” Castiel reassures him. Dean smiles gratefully. They talk and eat the rest of the breakfast, Cas’ hand still resting comfortably on Dean’s.

 Ten minutes later, Castiel’s at the door and ready to leave. He paces back and forth; Dean can see the cogs and gears turning over in his head. So to settle him, Dean strolls lazily over, stopping just in front of Cas. Cas looks up, his mouth opening to say something. But Dean doesn’t give him a chance. Instead he presses his lips to Cas’. Almost instantly, Cas melts into him, hands running over Dean’s arms. “Have a good day. I’ll tell you all about mine when you get home,” Dean says a little breathlessly as he steps away from Castiel. He studiously ignores the tingling in his lips and arms where Castiel’s skin pressed to his. Cas’ stares at him a moment, eyes clouded over in lust, he snaps out of it, giving a decisive nod.

“Yes. OK. Bye Dean,” he says and heads out the door. Dean chuckles and shakes his head a little, returning to the kitchen. Karen meets him there. She gives him a knowing look.

 “What?” Dean asks, grinning.

 “Oh nothing. You ready to go? I’ll drive you,” Karen says.

 ***

Bobby Singer is the most intimidating old man that Dean has ever seen. He’s shorter than Dean with a beard and wears an old trucker cap. He also sports a scowl and a crease between his eyebrows the size of the Marianna Trench.

 Right away he set Dean on changing the oil of an old  Chrysler Lebaron that has definitely seen better days if the number of dings and scratches along the sides are anything to go by. But Dean doesn’t question, Bobby, he wouldn’t dare to. He just nods and gets straight to work.

 Once he’s done, he goes to find Bobby to see what else he can do. Searching around the garage, he finds several other employees; a twig of a man named Garth who in Dean’s opinion is what a dog would act like if it were human—all happy and adorable in the most grudging way possible. Garth chats to him and points Dean in the direction of the office so Dean takes his search for Bobby indoors.

 When Dean opens the sliding door he pauses for a moment to bask in the coolness from the air conditioner. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the cool air over the back of his sweat slicked neck. He’s brought out of his reverie by a slightly annoyed “Can I help you?” Dean’s eyes open and he can feel himself flush in embarrassment.

 “Yes. I’m looking for Bobby,” Dean answers the receptionist, a blonde girl with doe brown eyes and a manner that just screams ‘don’t mess with me or you’ll regret it’. Dean vaguely remembers her from Bobby’s brief introduction. Her name’s Jo (“Do not call me Joanna. Screw you Bobby!”).

 “Of course! You must be Dean! Hi!” Jo says happily, launching herself up and over the front desk. Dean’s eyes widen in shock and Jo cackles.

 “Follow me.” Jo leads him down a small hallway to a wooden door that proclaims ‘Go Away!’ in red spray paint. “This is his causal office, the other one is more spoofy and doesn’t have the sign,” Jo explains. She knocks once and yells through the wood “Oi! Bobby, Dean wants you.” A grumble comes from the opposite side and Jo gives him a grin before swinging the door open and pushing him inside. She gives Bobby a wink and slams the door closed. Leaving Bobby and Dean alone.

 “Finished changing the oil of that clunker?” Bobby questions from behind a cluttered desk. A laptop that has to be at least a decade old sits to the side and a bottle of whiskey is being used as a paperweight.

 “Yes, sir,” Dean says.

 “Don’t call me ‘Sir’. It’s Bobby. Got it? Now, I want you out with Garth, he’s got this piece of shit some college girl wants him to fix. It’s going to take more than one set of hands. Should take all day. If not, you know where to find me,” Bobby tells Dean, narrowing his eyes at the younger man standing awkwardly in the room.

 “OK, I’ll go—,” Dean beings to back out of the room. Bobby says nothing to stop him and Dean nearly sprints back down the hall.

 Back out in the main reception area, Jo is siting back behind the desk, bobbing her head to music playing through her headphones. She doesn’t notice Dean and he slips out without disturbing her.

 ***

 When Cas came to pick Dean up several hours later, Bobby came out of his office to greet him. They almost immediately went back inside said office and now are having some kind of conference… about him. Dean now sits in one of the chairs meant for waiting customers. He twiddles his thumbs and taps his foot to the music only playing in his head. In short, he’s bored out of his fucking brain and Cas needs to hurry the hell up.

 Jo taps away at the laptop behind the desk. The clicking of the keys is really starting to get on Dean’s nerves and he makes a conscious effort to ignore them. He stares out the window at the street, he can see Cas’ BMW parked towards the back of the lot. “Hey? Earth to Dean?” he zones back in to see Jo staring at him expectantly.

 “Oh. Sorry. What was that?” Dean murmurs, slightly embarrassed.

 “I said. I don’t think you should worry, Bobby’s gonna hire you. He likes you,” Jo explains nonchalantly. Dean nods, hope igniting in his chest. For Bobby to hire him would be awesome. Today he’d worked his ass off and done everything that was asked of him. Garth seemed impressed with his work so hopefully Bobby is too.

 Before Dean can reply the door to Bobby’s office down the hall opens and two sets of footsteps begin to make their way out to the reception. Cas enters the room first, Bobby on his heels. Cas gives him a small smile, giving nothing away. Dean stands quickly and Bobby comes over saying in his gruff voice, “You did well today. I’d like to have you back tomorrow.” Dean’s mouth drops open—stunned. Finding his voice he stutters out a quick thanks and he can hear Cas snicker from where he stands behind Bobby.

 They leave shortly after that. Dean almost bouncing in his seat by Cas’ side. “Can you believe it Cas? I got the job!” Dean exclaims, clapping his hands together. A grin sits on his face so wide it feels as if his cheeks are about to rip.

 “I told you you’d get it. You’re very hardworking and good at what you love,” Cas replies, slipping a hand off the wheel to wind with Dean’s on his lap.

 ***

That night, Dean chatters on about his day, Castiel listening intently and asking questions or clarifications where appropriate. Throughout dinner all Dean can focus on is how amazing it is to have a job again. And a job that he loves, no less. “You should have seen Garth. The bloody customer, Jesus she would have been what? Twenty? Yeah probably. Well, she has no idea what she’s doing. Yet she blames Garth for her piece of shit car not working. Says it’s his fault that she’s had to bring it back for the third time. Poor Garth, he just stood there and took it. Jo on the other hand… holy shit. Bobby had to literally drag her away before she said something,” Dean babbles, waving his fork in the air. Cas smirks at him, his chin propped up on the table by his fist.

 “I assume you had a very enjoyable day?” Cas says mildly. Dean replies by shaking his head vigorously. His cheeks hurting from how much he’s been smiling. “Good. I’m glad you’re happy, Dean.”

 “Aw, thanks Cas. Thank you for getting me this job and thank you for everything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dean says sincerely, the joking and light mood from earlier evaporating.

 “Dean, you don’t have to thank me. I was just…” Cas protests.

 “No. If you hadn’t have stepped into my life in one ugly ass trench coat I’d probably be dead or close to it,” Dean cuts him off. Cas stares at him, speechless, his eyes turning misty. Dean looks away, back to his food—a steak with mushroom sauce and green salad. Cas clears his throat and gives Dean’s hand a quick squeeze before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen.

 Dean eats slowly, waiting for Cas to join him, but after a good five minutes, he gives up. Apparently Cas isn’t re-joining him at the table. He ignores the little stab of hurt.

 When Dean brings his empty plate into the kitchen, he finds it empty. Eyes narrowing, he rinses off his plate and puts it into the dishwasher. _Where’s Cas?_ He thinks to himself, leaning against the kitchen bench. In the time it takes for him to pack away the left over salad and wipe down the bench top, Dean hears the front door open and close, before Cas’ footsteps carrying him into the kitchen. Dean looks up, meeting Cas’ eyes. He raises an eyebrow in questioning. “I… er… needed some air,” Cas stutters in explanation. Dean doesn’t question it, as much as he wants to. “I have some work to do, so…” Cas points in the direction of upstairs. Dean nods silently and Castiel hurries out of the room. Dean stares after him. Was it something he said? Shrugging off Cas’ weirdness, Dean ambles over to the living room, curling up on the couch he watches the news, trying to switch off his brain and listen to the reporter drone on about the weather.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!

** Cas’ POV **

So, apparently ‘feelings’ aren’t Castiel’s forte. At all really. The feelings welling up inside him at Dean’s confession were something he has never experienced before and it scares him. It scares him so much he has to leave the room.

 Outside it’s not all that cool, although there is a slight breeze. Cas leans against the house, hand stuffed deep in his pockets. He’s filled with the overwhelming need for a cigarette. Apparently these days when he’s trying to suppress emotions the urge to smoke is stronger. It’s been almost six months. Cas squeezes his hands into fists and closes his eyes, concentrating on his breathing.

 That itch, that _need_ is still there and Castiel’s stalking towards his car before he even really comprehends what he’s doing. He unlocks the door, leaning over the drivers seat to open the glove compartment. He retrieves the pack of cigarettes before returning to the house. He parks himself on the front steps and pulling the lighter and a smoke he lights up. With the first drag he can feel himself relax somewhat. The nicotine beginning to course through his system. He holds the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb, glancing up and down the street. He notices the streetlights are just starting to flicker on in the twilight.

 Since Dean has come into his life it’s been… better. He’s got someone to talk to. It’s nice. But it’s also more than that. What he’s feeling for Dean isn’t what he would consider ‘friendly,’ it’s more. He likes Dean. A lot. He wants Dean to sleep in his bed and wake up with him and kiss him and be with him. He loves him. Butterflies assault his stomach with the revelation. He feels sick. Castiel takes a deep inhale, holding the smoke in his lungs. Huh, he loves Dean. Loves him. Exhale. The smoke is carried away on the breeze. But what if Dean doesn’t feel the same way? Their little make out session by the stairs and Dean’s office visit would suggest otherwise.

 What if now, that Dean has a job he doesn’t want to stay any longer? He wouldn’t be dependent on Cas anymore. He doesn’t need to be here. He could start searching for his brother. He could do whatever he wanted. Castiel shoves those thoughts away. Would Dean really leave?

 Once he’s finished his smoke, he stamps it out on the concrete step below him and flicks it into the garden, he returns indoors intending to get some work done and try to avoid Dean for as long as it takes for him to figure out exactly what he’s feeling. Maybe it’s not love. Maybe he’s been out of love for so long he thinks whatever he’s feeling for Dean is love. It could be just lust.

 ***

Cas taps away at the keyboard completely absorbed in his work. So absorbed that he doesn’t hear the knock on the library door. A hand on his shoulder almost makes him jump a foot. He spins around, eyes wide. Dean stands behind him, amusement twinkles in his eyes but otherwise his face is blank. “Dean. I didn’t hear you come in,” Castiel explains, composing himself.

 “Ah… yeah. Sorry,” Dean apologises. Castiel gives him a small smile.

 “Is there something you need?” Castiel asks after a beat of silence.

 “It’s getting late,” Dean says, gesturing to the little display on the corner of Cas’ screen, it reads 12:42. How is it past midnight? It seems like he only walked in the room an hour ago.

 “Jesus, I didn’t realise how late it’d gotten,” Cas says, a little shocked. He swipes a hand over his face. It seems that now that the time had been pointed out, his body is beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

 “Come to bed?” Dean asks quietly, eyes on the floor. Castiel stares at him for a moment. Without thinking, he rises and crowds into Dean’s space. Cupping Dean’s cheeks he, brings his lips to Dean’s. The kiss starts out sweet, but soon Dean’s tongue is teasing it’s way past Castiel’s lips. Cas’ hands slide down Dean’s neck and into the short hair at the base of Dean’s neck, Dean’s hands circling Castiel’s waist, reeling him closer until their bodies are flush. “Bedroom?” Dean asks, pulling his mouth from Castiel’s to get the word out. Cas nods and then they’re stumbling out of the library and down the hall.

 Dean pushes Cas into the bedroom, tugging at the buttons on Castiel's white dress shirt, impatient to feel the warm skin of Cas' chest. Leaning in he captures Cas' lips in a kiss, tongue sliding along Cas' bottom lip pulling a growl from Dean’s throat. Dean chuckles against Cas' lips before thrusting his tongue into Cas' mouth to do battle. Dean walks Cas backwards until his calves are flush with the end of the bed. Breaking the kiss he pushes Cas so that he's sitting shirt open revealing his tanned chest. Dean glances over it appreciatively. Cas reaches out and tugs Dean closer by the belt loops of his jeans. "See something you like?" Cas whispers huskily.

 "Hell yeah", Dean replies carding a hand through Cas' hair while Cas busily unbuttons Dean's jeans. Castiel palms Dean's cock through his boxers, arousal shooting straight through his body, short-circuiting Dean's brain. He moans in encouragement. Castiel leans forward, mouthing at Dean's cock. Dean's hands clench in Cas' hair reflexively at the pleasure he's feeling. "God Cas," he moans, closing his eyes. Dean looks down at Cas with hooded eyes. Cas gives him a sly smirk, roughly dragging both Dean's jeans and boxers to his calves, Dean shuffling them off completely, kicking them away.

 Dean feels his cock spring free, but it's only for a sweet moment because suddenly Cas is taking it into his mouth. His hands grab fistfuls of Dean's ass, massaging the cheeks. He licks around the head of Dean's cock, drawing a pleasured gasp from Dean who strokes his fingers through Castiel's hair in encouragement. Dean's eyes flutter shut again. Opening his mouth, Castiel sucks on the head like it’s his favourite flavoured lollipop. Dean moans in pleasure, this must excite Castiel because suddenly a hand comes up to fondle with Dean's balls, his eyes fly open with a choked gasp.

 "Cas, fuck, oh my God," Dean babbles hands flexing in Castiel's hair. Castiel keeps constant eye contact as he begins to swallow Dean. Dean gasps as he watches his cock disappear down Cas' throat. Castiel's other hand wraps around the base of Dean's cock that doesn't quite fit down his throat and begins to stroke. Dean's legs tremble, he can feel a droplet of sweat roll down his back. He is so close so coming as Cas begins to bob his head up and down on his cock. When Cas begins to hum… holy shit. Dean feels as if every drop of blood has gravitated to his cock leaving him light-headed and achingly hard. He resists the urge to fuck into Cas' mouth, keeping his hips still. "C-Cas please I-I'm gonna come," Dean pleads, which only seems to spur Cas on. He sucks on Dean so hard his cheeks hollow out.

 Dean comes hard down Cas' throat who swallows every drop. Cas pulls Dean down beside him on the bed; Dean's whole body feels like jelly and a content smile graces his face. Dean lies back on the bed and Cas moves to straddle his waist, placing kisses along Dean's jaw. Dean moans and moves to capture Castiel's mouth in a fevered kiss. He can taste himself on Cas' tongue; a salty and slightly bitter taste.

 Cas ruts against Dean's thigh, his hard cock still straining in his slacks. Dean pulls the shirt from Cas' shoulders and reaches down to remove Cas' pants. "Your turn," he murmurs against Cas' lips. Once Castiel's slacks and boxers are removed, Dean flips them over and begins to trail kisses down Cas' chest. Stopping at each nipple to nip and suck each bud to points. Castiel is a groaning, writhing mess beneath Dean and he can't help but chuckle. "Patience is a virtue, Cas," Dean whispers, tongue dipping into Cas' bellybutton ripping a gasp from the man.

 "Dean I swear to God…" Cas growls, fingers digging into the flesh of Dean's ass.

 "You'll what?" Dean taunts, nipping at the skin leading down to the dark hair above Cas' cock. Cas moans, shuddering under Dean. Dean sits up and Cas whines at the loss. Dean smirks and removes his shirt, to which Cas gladly then runs his hands over Dean's toned chest.

 "Please Dean," Cas pleads. Dean gives Cas a predatory grin and slides down to lick a stripe from the base of Cas' cock all the way to the head, causing Cas to gasp and cry, "Yes! Oh God." Dean swirls his tongue around the head of Cas' cock before taking it into his mouth, sucking hard. He can feel Cas pulsing in anticipation. Relaxing his throat, he takes Cas all the way until his nose is resting in the tangle of dark hair at the base of Cas cock. "Dean!" Cas gasps, hips shaking with the effort of not bucking up into Dean's mouth and choking him. Dean begins to bob up and down on Cas' dick, tongue swirling around the head before swallowing it back down. It isn't long before Cas is crying out and spilling down Dean's throat, Dean sucking it all eagerly.

 "Holy shit," Cas mumbles as Dean comes to lie next to him, arms wrapping around Cas' waist. Dean rests his head in the crook of Cas' neck placing a kiss on his rapidly beating pulse. Cas tangles their legs together and wraps an arm around Dean's shoulders, his other hand tracing patterns on Dean's hip.

 "Good?" Dean asks sleepily.

 "Very."

 ***

 Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. He’s almost certain Dean’s asleep beside him, head tucked against Castiel’s neck. “Hey Cas?” he murmurs, causing Castiel to startle.

 “Yes?”

 “Do you smoke?” Dean asks sleepily. Castiel silently curses. Of course Dean would be able to taste the cigarettes on his breath.

 "Um… occasionally,” Cas answers reluctantly. Dean nods slightly, not saying anything. “I know it’s a bad habit, and I have attempted giving up. Tonight is the first night in six months that I’ve… had one.”

 “It’s OK, I kinda smoked a bit. Back when I was in high school,” Dean says conversationally. Cas almost breathes a sigh of relief. “Cas?”

 “Mmm?”

 “Are you OK? You left for a bit earlier, I just wanna know if you’re alright,” Dean tells him softly, lifting his head up to stare straight into Castiel’s eyes. Cas’ heart melts at the sincerity shining in the green pools that are Dean’s irises.

 “Yeah, I’m OK, go to sleep. It’s late,” Cas insists, leaning up to press his lips to Dean’s. Dean stares at him for a moment more, before hunkering down. Cas ignores the little voice in his head—or maybe it’s his heart, that’s telling him to tell the truth. Tell Dean that he’s scared that he might leave. That he’s scared that he loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to chuck me a comment if you enjoyed what you've read ;)


	14. Chapter 14

** Dean’s POV **

 

Over the next few weeks Cas and Dean form a sort of routine. Get up, shower, have breakfast, Cas’ll leave for work and ten minutes later Karen will drive Dean. Once Cas finishes work, he’ll pick Dean up at around six, dinner and then later; bed. Cas insists on Dean sleeping in his bed and well, who is Dean to say no?

Today is Sunday and Cas insists on going for a walk. “But Cas, it’s too hot!” Dean protests, fanning himself dramatically. It really is hot, just not inside Cas’ house where the air con is blasting away. August is hell, like seriously. Garth nearly passed out from heat exhaustion on Friday and Bobby nearly had his head. Bobby told everyone; if it gets to hot, take a break, drink some water. But Garth insisted that he ‘just had to change this last tire, it’ll take ten minutes, Bobby!’

“Dean! You’ve been on that couch for the past six hours! It’s four thirty in the afternoon, it’s cooling down now,” Cas says in exasperation, he stomps over to the couch, stopping in front of Dean’s face where is hangs over the edge. Dean opens his eyes and comes face to… crotch. Seriously, Cas is standing so close if Dean poked out his tongue he’d be able to lick at the zipper on Cas’ jeans. He doesn’t of course, but the temptation is strong.

“Urg fine, but if I get too tired, you have to carry me home,” Dean complains, rolling off the couch. Cas rolls his eyes at Dean’s antics.

***

“So, Dean…” Cas begins about ten minutes into their walk. Dean takes his eyes off the gravel path to stare at Cas.

“Mmm?”

“You haven’t talked much about your brother; Sam…” Cas hints. Dean frowns, what is Cas trying to get at here?

“It’s never really come up. Why?” Dean questions, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Well, I was wondering that, well if you wanted… we could… I don’t know…”

“Cas if you’ve got something to say. Spit it out,” Dean grouches. Cas nods resolutely.

“If you wanted to reunite with your brother I would assist you.” Dean stares at him, jaw slack. Was he serious? He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m serious. If you so desired, I would help you. You’ve been living with me for nearly six months now and I just thought that maybe… because now you have a stable job and well, you’re getting your life back and…” Dean cuts off Cas’ ramblings by pulling him into a kiss; a quick peck of lips. He holds Cas to him in a hug.

“Yes. I would very much. Thank you, Cas.” The smile Castiel gives him—all gummy, crinkly-eyed is enough to make Dean’s insides feel all gooey and warm.

***

Their good mood quickly evaporates after a week. Castiel has been using resources available from the firm and Dean feels useless. What is he supposed to do? Stick _Lost_ posters up in the street? He quickly becomes irritable and as much as he tries, Castiel always seems to receive the brunt of it.

Two weeks after their search began, Dean and Cas are having dinner. “Can you pass me the ketchup?” Cas nods towards the bottle by Dean’s elbow. Dean picks it up and sets it down within Cas’ arm reach a little too hard; Cas’ head snaps up, a concerned frown on his face. “Is everything OK?”

“Fine. Peachy. Why?” Dean snaps. Castiel sets his fork down on the edge of his plate. Dean knows that that is the sign that Cas is about to try and force him to talk about it.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Talk to me.” And there it is. _Talk to me._ But does Cas ever talk to him? Yeah, about shit that doesn’t really matter. Dean’s not stupid, he knows that there is something that’s bothering Cas. There has been ever since he started the job at Bobby’s nearly a month ago. Dean’s caught the little looks Cas gives him when he thinks he’s not looking. Something’s up, but Cas won’t ever talk about it because he’s a stubborn ass. Yet he has the nerve to tell _him_ to talk about it.

“Why don’t you talk to _me_? I know there’s something up with you. So until you ‘fess up, you aren’t forcing me into talking,” Dean growls, glaring across the table. Cas’ eyes harden, his protective walls slamming into place with a resolute bang.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cas states, calmly picking up his fork and continuing eating. He hasn’t even used the ketchup. Ass.

“Bullshit, you’re a liar,” Dean accuses, venom coating his words. Cas looks up sharply and if looks could kill, Dean would be stone cold by now.

“Do not accuse me of being a liar. There is nothing ‘up with me’ that will concern _you_ ,” Cas says coldly, pushing his chair back the legs scraping loudly against the tiled floor making both flinch. He storms off into the kitchen.

Dean fumes in his spot. Stupid stubborn ass. No hang on, he’s not going to let it go this time. Cas always presses him and presses him to open up, so now it’s his turn. Dean screeches his way out of his chair, rounding the corner into the kitchen. “Talk. To. Me,” he growls, crossing his arms over his chest. Castiel has his back to him. His hands braced against the kitchen sink. Smoke rises above his head smelling of cloves. He turns around and sure enough a cigarette sits between his lips.

“Not now, Dean,” Cas warns, smoke escaping his mouth as he speaks.

“When then? Tomorrow? The day after that? What do you do in your sessions with Pam? Gossip? I thought those were supposed to be helping you.” Dean leans against the wall by the doorway.

“They are helping me and no I do not _gossip_ during my sessions which by the way are confidential and you have no business knowing what or what isn’t said during them,” Cas glares at Dean, a hand coming up to grab the cigarette as he breathes in deeply.

“Why, ‘cuz you talk about me?”

“Fine. OK, yes we do speak about you. You already knew that,” Cas replies.

“Well that isn’t surprising, of course I’m the reason for all your problems. Here, I’ll do you a favour. See ya around Cas.” And then Dean is leaving. He doesn’t grab anything. He just walks out. His brain and heart are both screaming at him that this is the worst idea in the history of ideas, but he doesn’t stop. Maybe Cas will come after him? _Please God let him come after me._

That hope is dashed by the time Dean is halfway down the block and no one is chasing after him.

***

Dean knows the streets like the back of his hand. He knows where to go and where not to go. He isn’t surprised when he ends back up on the corner overlooking Novak & Co. Accounting. He smiles at some of the familiar faces. No one greets him in return. They all ignore him. With a feeling of dread and regret, Dean leaves, continuing walking down the streets. What has he done? He’s such an idiot! Cas is the best thing that could have ever happened to him and now he’s gone and blown it. But then again, Cas hasn’t come running after him so maybe he’s was just looking for an excuse for Dean to leave. Cas has probably wanted him to leave the moment he was well enough. But the bastard was just too nice to tell him to go. That _obviously_ is it.

Dean walks, cutting down an alley and behind the bakery where he knows a ready supply of baked goods will always be waiting. For the past three weeks, Cas and Bobby had arranged for Dean’s pay slips to go into an account connected to Cas’. There is no way in hell Dean’s going crawling back to Cas to get that all sorted out. He’ll figure something out later, maybe on Tuesday, his next shift, he’ll organise something with Bobby. Cash in hand possibly?

Right now Dean’s only got one pressing issue: find shelter. He knocks around in the few garbage cans, trying to find a box or something to cushion the ground. He finds nothing and that pit of regret gets deeper and deeper in his stomach. Had he kept his mouth shut he wouldn’t be in this situation right now. He’d have a nice clean bed and Cas to snuggle up next to.

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when a soft, “Whatcha doing, Brother?” resonates out of the shadows. He spins around to find a beefy looking man dressed in rags standing a little ways down the alley.

“Lookin’ for a box or something to sleep on,” Dean answers, stepping away from the garbage bins. Right now, he needs to be wary, who knows what this guy’s hopped up on. He could be violent.

“I’ve got one if you’re lookin’ to share. The name’s Benny. What’s yours?” Benny introduces himself, stepping under the light cast from a near streetlight.

“Dean,” he replies warily.

“Well, Dean, let me show you to mi casa,” Benny chuckles, leading Dean further into the alley. Dean stays on his guard. He doesn’t trust Benny one iota. Who knows what his motives are.

***

Benny has no motives. He seems to truly be a decent guy. He’s just drawn the short end of the stick in life. Dean rests with his back against a stone wall as Benny tells him all about himself. How he came to be living behind a bakery in a sooty alley.

Benny had a wife; Andrea, but she wanted a divorce and left him for someone else, someone apparently better (her words). She left Benny high and dry, took the house their car their _daughter_. Benny turned to the bottle, lost his job, lost everything.

Dean feels for him. Despite all this, Benny is cheerful, offering Dean half a loaf of bread and an ear if Dean wants to talk. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit. Benny soon drops off to sleep and Dean gets lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about Cas. About Sam. About his idiocy. About everything. He doesn’t get any sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?


	15. Chapter 15

** Cas’ POV **

He couldn’t believe it. Finding Sam is supposed to keep Dean from leaving, not push him away. Castiel listened to Dean’s pounding footsteps and the slam of the front door. He slid down the cabinetry, clutching the cigarette desperately between his fingers. With shaky hands he raises it to his lips and takes a drag. Cas feels completely hollow inside. Dean’s gone. That’s it. He completely fucked everything up. Drawing his knees to his chest, he stays huddled against the kitchen cabinets, hugging his knees to his chest. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

Now what? Go after him? Don’t go after him? Cas stares at the floor, clutching the cigarette as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality. Cas pinches his arm. Maybe this is all just some terrible, terrible dream and if he pinches himself hard enough he’ll wake up. The pain does nothing but make him wince.

How could he have been so stupid? Why did he antagonise Dean? _This is all my fault!_ Cas screams at himself. Had he been not feeling so completely hollow, Cas thinks be might cry. It’s as if his heart has been ripped out and all that remains is a bloody empty cavity. “I’m sorry,” Cas whispers into the empty kitchen.

***

Cas tossed and turned all night. He wouldn’t have gotten more than an hours sleep. By the time the sun was beginning to show on the horizon, Cas was up and dressed. He sat irritably at the breakfast bar, his third cup of coffee before him.

Mrs Singer bustles in at six. She stops dead once she reaches the kitchen. “Castiel! What’s wrong? Something’s happened!” she exclaims, crossing the kitchen and cupping Cas’ face in weathered hands. She frowns at him. “Tell me.”

Castiel sighs, forcing the lingering feelings of regret and guilt deep, deep down. “Dean left last night. There was a fight. I have to go find him.”

“Oh Castiel,” Mrs Singer huffs and gives him a stern look. “What was the fight about? You can tell me.” She pulls out a stool and sits gingerly down next to him, folding her hands in her lap.

“Well, we were having dinner and then Dean was accusing me of hiding something from him. I got angry at him, well I got more angry at myself because he was right. I am hiding something from him and I was angry because he could see that. Anyway, he ended up leaving after extremely regretful things were said,” Cas explains sculling back the rest of his coffee, wincing when the hot liquid burns his throat.

Mrs Singer shakes her head, “Castiel, you need to talk to that boy. Hell how do you think Bobby and I are still married? I have to almost tie that stubborn mule down to get him to talk to me. But trust me, once you get everything out in the open, it’ll all be fine,” she advises, patting him on the hand. She gives him a hopeful smile. “Now get your scrawny butt out there and find him! Talk to him! Tell him what’s been worrying you, there’s no point loading all your feelings onto your therapist. She’s not who you’re in love with.” Cas’ mouth opens, his head shooting up indignantly. Mrs Singer cuts him off with a sharp look. “Castiel Novak do not tell me that you do not love him. You know you do. I see the way you look at him.”

Cas stares at her. Is Mrs Singer right? Does he really truly love Dean? The amount of pain in his heart at seeing Dean leave would suggest so. The ache at not having Dean around—even for a night is unbearable. Dean has become a part of Castiel’s life and now… now he can’t bear to be alone.

“Thank you, Mrs Singer,” Castiel says sincerely. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Castiel, go and get Dean. Tell him. Tell him everything. You won’t regret it.” Castiel nods, standing up, filled with renewed determination. He drops a kiss to Mrs Singer’s cheek and practically runs towards the door. Towards Dean. To get him back.

***

When Cas enters the office, he’s irritated and hurt and in a horrible mood. Dean is gone. It’s as if he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Cas looked everywhere! The parks, the street corners, alleyways, the mall, down by the river. Everywhere!

“Mr Novak, Mr Adler requests another meeting in regards to expanding his business,” Becky chirps once Cas exits the elevator on his floor. He stalks past his secretaries.

“Not now, Becky. I can’t deal with the incessant man now. Schedule it for later. Weeks later,” Cas directs.

“Yes Sir,” Becky says, undisturbed by Castiel’s dark mood. Jody and Bela, however, share a concerned look but say nothing.

Entering his office, Cas barely refrains from slamming the door shut. He knows doing as such would only disturb his employees and give him a brief shot of satisfaction before his bad mood swamps him again.

He collapses in his office chair, letting his head fall into his hands. He sucks in a couple of deep breaths to keep calm. He feels terrible—physically ill. _What if Dean’s in trouble?_ Maybe that’s why Castiel couldn’t find him. _No! Don’t think about that!_ Cas screams internally. He has to think positively. _Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he really was just biding his time. What if he hates me?_ The last thought shoves a golf ball sized lump into Cas’ throat. He tries to swallow it down, to compose himself. The CEO of Novak  & Co. Accounting does not cry! He most certainly does not cry about his… boyfriend? Leaving.  Oh God what if he’s really screwed everything up?

***

An indefinite amount of time later, a knock comes at Castiel’s office door. He looks up from a book of accounts, calling an abrupt “Come in.”

“Sir there’s someone here to see you,” Jody tells him, clearly not happy to be the one interrupting the boss. Castiel frowns. One does not simply show up unannounced. You must make an appointment. It’s unprofessional.

“Tell them to make an appointment, I’m busy,” Cas tells her, shaking his head, the corners of his mouth tipping up scornfully. Jody gives him an apologetic look.

“Sir, it’s your brother; Gabriel,” she discloses. “And he won’t leave. We’ve been trying to get him to go for over half an hour. He’s threatened to just storm right in and I quote ‘break down his fucking door.’” Cas sighs irritably. Of all the days, why today? Cas and Gabriel haven’t spoke since… since Dean was in the hospital all those months ago. The Novak siblings aren’t known to be particularly familial.

“Oh for the love of God. Let him in then,” Cas grouches. Jody nods, disappearing.

“See! How hard was that now?” Gabriel’s pompous voice seemingly echoes from outside the door. Then it’s swinging inwards and Cas’ short, irritatingly cheerful brother is filling his space. “Cassie! How is my favourite brother doing this fine day today? And is that... cigarette smoke I smell?” Gabriel throws himself into the leather chair that… oh God that he and Dean… Cas bites his lip.

“Fine. Why are you here?” Castiel cuts straight to the chase, ignoring Gabriel's last question. Gabriel kicks his legs up on Castiel’s desk leaning back in the chair.

“Oh well, maybe I just wanted to visit my bro. Why do you always assume that I’ve got some ulterior motive?” Gabriel mock pouts. Castiel glares at him. When isn’t there an ulterior motive with Gabriel? Castiel can count the number of times Gabriel has spoken to him, in his adult life, out of the kindness of his heart on one hand. “Urg fine! A little birdie told me that you’ve been looking for one Samuel Winchester,” Gabriel smirks. Castiel sits bolt upright in his chair.

“Do you know where he is? Tell me, Gabriel.” At this point, Castiel doesn’t even bother with finding out how Gabriel knows so much about him. It’s just a given. His brother will forever and always be sticking his nose into Castiel’s business.

“Oh well I would tell you, but you haven’t been particularly welcoming and hospitable to me in like… _ages_!” Gabriel emphasises, throwing his hands wide.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” Castiel sighs. Gabriel’s smirk widens.

***

For once, Gabriel’s terms weren’t _unbearable:_ Dinner and a place to stay for a week in exchange for the whereabouts of Sam Winchester.

Turns out, he’s been attending Stanford University, studying prelaw. He got into the school with a full ride and resides on campus. He has a steady girlfriend named Jessica Moore and he seems happy. Castiel can’t help but wonder if the young man ever spares a thought for his brother. Surely he would want to know whatever happened to his only living family member. Wouldn’t he?

He got all this information from Gabriel in his impromptu visit to the office. Gabriel seemed quite pleased with himself, puffing his chest up like some sort of tropical bird. “You are very welcome, Cassie,” Gabriel hints, waving his hand about. Castiel rolls his eyes for what would have to be the fiftieth time in his brothers’ short visit.

“Thank you Gabriel.”

“Now, what’s been going on in the little bubble belonging to Castiel Novak? Hot sex with Mr Dean Winchester I’d imagine,” Gabriel winks. Castiel feels his cheeks flame and Gabriel doesn’t even bother with holding back his cackle. “Oh Cassie! I knew you’d find someone eventually and hot damn those Winchester genes. You got lucky!”

“Oh shut up Gabriel!” Gabriel does not. Castiel rests his chin on his palm while Gabriel composed himself. “You done?” Gabriel nods, wiping tears from his eyes. “Good. Now get your nose out of my private life.”

“Cas, Cas, Cas modest are we? Eh don’t be. I might stop by after I leave here. Have a little chat with ol’ Dean-o while you’re gone. I—what?” Gabriel cuts himself off mid sentence, watching Castiel’s expression.

“You won’t find him there,” Cas says glumly. The mirth runs from Gabriel’s face leaving behind confusion and brotherly protectiveness. “He left. It’s my fault. I don’t know where he is. I’m trying to find him.” Castiel can feel that golf ball sized lump returning.

“Oh Cassie,” Gabriel sighs.

“I know! I know! Don’t give me that. I’m trying to make it better. I just have to find him and talk to him. We’ll work it out. We have to I— ,” Castiel snaps his mouth shut. Was he really going to say it? Was he going to admit what Mrs Singer knows? Should he? Saying it will make it real; turn his thought into a real thing. Is he ready for that?

“What Castiel? You what?” Gabriel presses, letting his feet drop to the floor and he leans forward in his chair—eager.

“I—I love him,” Cas admits, staring right into his brother’s eyes. “I love him!” Cas repeats louder this time, with more conviction. Gabriel’s face breaks out in a grin.

“ _Finally_ , you’ve woken up,” Gabriel says cryptically, but Cas doesn’t even care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, guys we're getting close to the end!


	16. Chapter 16

** Dean’s POV **

Dean wakes to a sharp rap on the chest. He jerks forward and opening his eyes he’s met with the sight of one very cheerful Benny. “Mornin’ Brother,” he greets, stepping away from Dean. Dean rubs his eyes, looking left and right. _What the hell am I doing here?_ He thinks before the memory of walking away from Cas comes rushing back with a punch to the gut. _Oh. That’s right._ “You hungry? Mr Shurley gave me all the day old pastries and a loaf of bread.” Benny pulls out a disposable plastic container filled with the baked goods. Dean declines with a shake of his head. Benny shrugs pulling a danish from the vast selection. He sits down beside Dean, chewing away.

They sit in silence, the smell of baked goods wafting from the building before them. It seems to be a little past dawn and the air is still cool, Dean knows it won’t be long before the heat will be sweltering. _Cas would be just waking up now. He’ll be getting ready for work. Getting dressed in his suit, tying his tie wrong, slipping on that ugly trench coat. Would he even care that I’ m gone? Probably not. This is for the best. It is!_ “What’s on your mind, Brother?” Benny asks, nudging Dean gently. Dean looks at the man at his side. Should he spill his heart to some random? Benny has shown him a hell of a lot of kindness in the short time they’ve known each other.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Dean mutters, dragging his boot along the dusty ground.

“How so?” Benny asks, sucking the sugar from the tips of his fingers.

“I had this really good… boyfriend” _Boyfriend?_ Boyfriend _._ “He got me off the streets almost seven months ago. I’ve been living with him. He got me a job. Everything was great! My life was getting better. He even started helping me to try finding my brother whom I haven’t spoken to in years. But… he always bottled up all his problems; he never really _spoke_ to me. It was infuriating! He’d give me these _looks_ like he wanted to say something but he’d always turn away and that was that. And well, I snapped. We had a fight and I left and now here I am,” Dean gestures around him. To the almost overflowing garbage cans, to the leaky drainpipe and to the mangy cat picking its way down the alley. Benny sits, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Seems you’ve been a bit harsh, Brother,” he says simply, tearing up a small tartlet, custard smearing his fingers. Dean opens his mouth to interrupt, but Benny gives him a look as if to say ‘let me finish’. “Have you spoken to him about this? Him bottling up all his emotions?”

“Well… not really. But he goes to a shrink, isn’t it her _job_ to get him to talk; to talk to him?” Dean questions, crossing his arms.

“Maybe you should talk to him. So what he goes to a shrink? His problems aren’t about her they’re about you. Try and look at it from a different perspective. How would your boyfriend be feeling about all this? You said he got you a job and he’s helping you find your brother. Maybe he thought now that you’re getting a life worth living you might leave him. Have you thought of that?” Benny calls the cat over then, speaking to it softly as he feeds it the custard tartlet.

Dean hasn’t thought about it, about how Cas might be feeling. Does Cas really think that he’ll leave? God he hopes not. He would never leave Cas! But, wait, isn’t that exactly what he’s gone and done? Left? _Ah shit._ “Benny, have you ever thought of going into motivational speaking? You’d be awesome at it,” Dean calls, standing up and dusting off his clothes.

Benny grins, “Naw, Brother, that’s the nicest thing someone has ever said to me.”

“I’m serious! If Cas takes me back, I’m going to help you. We’ll get you a life, just like Cas got me a life.”

Benny stands up, giving the cat one last pet. “Brother, you just concentrate on getting your man back,” he tells Dean. Dean nods.

“I won’t forget you. You helped me. You got my thoughts together. Thank you, Benny,” Dean says sincerely, clapping Benny on the back.

“Go. Go get Cas.”

With one last nod, Dean turns and leaves, hurrying back to Castiel’s house. Hopefully, he’ll accept Dean’s apologies. _Please God, let him forgive me_. Dean sends a quick prayer up to anyone who’s listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the tiny chapter, but you'll thank me when I upload the next one ;)


	17. Chapter 17

** Cas’ POV **

Unsurprisingly, finding someone who doesn’t want to be found is practically impossible. Castiel is grumpy and losing hope after searching for Dean for over an hour before finally giving up and going home. He had gone straight from the office to search for Dean, not even stopping home to drop off his things. He’d just walked around with his suitcase and in a full suit.

Arriving home, Cas dumps his suitcase at the door, kicks his shoes off and stomps through to the kitchen. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you not to leave your shoes where people can trip over them?” an amused voice asks. Castiel jerks to a stop, his head flying up. Dean leans against the breakfast bar, elbows resting on the marble. Castiel’s mouth opens and closes but no words come out. He’s stunned. Dean’s back. _Dean’s back!_

He launches himself across the room, grabbing Dean and squeezing him close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Don’t leave,” Cas pleads, ducking his head in Dean’s neck. Dean hugs him back.

“No, I’m sorry. I was a dick. I had no right to expect you to open up and spill your soul to me. I shouldn’t have pressed. If you wanted to tell me, you would have,” Dean murmurs into his hair, stroking calloused hands down Castiel’s back.

Cas pulls back, he cups Dean’s face and pulls him down, mashing their lips together. Teeth and tongues collide, breaths mingling and it isn’t long before Dean is rutting against Castiel’s thigh. Pulling back Dean pulls in deep breaths, his pupils dilated with arousal. “Please, Cas,” he whispers and Cas kisses him again, pushing him against the breakfast bar. Guiding Dean’s over shirt from his shoulders, Cas lets it drop beside them already working his fingers under the hem of Dean’s tee. He slides the palms of his hands against Dean’s abs and up to his nipples, rolling them between his fingertips until Dean’s moaning into his mouth.

“Upstairs. My bed. Now,” Cas practically growls, tugging Dean away from the bar and towards the stairs.    

They stumble and stagger, pealing off layers of clothing and dropping them haphazardly across the stairs and along the carpeted hall. Cas nips and sucks at Dean’s jaw drawing out moans and gasps. Cas revels at the feeling of Dean against him. Up until now, Castiel never truly realised how much he’d missed Dean. Now he’s intending to never let him go.

***

Dean slams him against the wall, grinding his hips obscenely against Cas’. Castiel gasps at the friction against his crotch. He grips Dean by the hair and pulls him closer. Their mouths move sloppily against one another. Teeth nip at swollen lips and tongues tangle together. Dean has managed to reduce him to a shaky, whimpering mess!

Dean has Cas’ hands pinned above his head and is busy sucking and biting marks into the skin of Castiel’s collarbone when Gabriel strolls from Cas’ room. At first neither notice him, too busy moaning and wriggling in pleasure. That quickly changes when Gabriel clears his throat. They spring apart. Cas glares at his brother, pointedly _not_ covering his very prominent boner. He glances quickly at Dean, to find him blushing and staring at the carpet, his arms crossed protectively across his bare chest.

“Well, I assume this is Dean,” Gabriel comments cheerily strolling forward and offering his hand. Dean shakes it warily, eyeing Cas over Gabriel’s head. Cas sighs. Trust Gabriel to interrupt just when things were getting interesting.

“Dean this is my brother Gabriel,” Cas formally introduces them, his voice more gravelly than normal.

“ _Older_ brother Gabriel,” Gabe cuts in winking at Dean.

“Yeah, older, whatever. What do you want?” Cas snaps, irritated at Gabriel for interrupting.

“I heard a thump and came to investigate, little did I know it was just my little bro being ravished by his recently re-obtained boyfriend,” Gabriel comments wryly. Cas rolls his eyes. “Please continue, I’ll just go find some cotton wool and bleach or maybe acid. Yes I think the acid will work best at burning away the images scored into my corneas forever.”

Castiel is tugging Dean away from Gabriel towards the spare room—Dean’s room—before Gabriel even finishes speaking. The last thing he hears before slamming the door shut behind them is, “USE PROTECTION!”

***

“Now… where were we?” Cas purrs, stroking a hand down Dean’s stubbled cheek. Dean smirks, pressing their lips together. They back up until Cas is lying flat on his back on Dean’s bed, Dean looking down at him from the foot of the bed. Crawling up the bed, Dean holds eye contact, his pupils dilated and cheeks flushed with arousal. His palms slide up Cas’ legs until they reach the zipper to his slacks—his cock strains against the fabric and Dean takes his time palming him through the material. “Jesus Christ get them off before I blow my load and ruin them,” Cas gasps, his back nearly arching off the bed. Dean’s smirk grows and he rubs harder. “No! Dean,” Cas pleads, hands reaching to pull Dean’s away. “I want to come with your cock in my ass. Please Dean,” Cas begs, fingers clinging to Dean’s wrist.

Dean’s head shoots up, “Well shit Cas, when you beg like that…” his sentence trails off and he nods his head once. Cas releases his grip and lays down flat. This time Dean wastes no time getting the pants off. He throws them over his shoulder and straddles Cas’ thighs practically bending himself in half to mouth over the already damp fabric of Cas’ boxers. He teases Cas, runs his tongue just under the waistband. Castiel has to bite his lip to stop from coming. He meant what he said. “Come on!” he almost yells, looking down at Dean.

“Yes Sir,” and damn if the hoarseness of Dean’s voice doesn’t go straight to his dick.

Cas watches as Dean strips out of his jeans and boxers before pulling Cas’ off, the clothes adding to the pile on the floor. Dean lines their hips up, rocking their groins together. He entwines his fingers with Cas’ as he lets their cocks slide together, slick with precome. With a whine, Cas leans up and Dean presses their lips together. Cas licks into Dean’s mouth. Cas had no idea how much he’s been wanting this. Wanting Dean. Needing Dean. And right now, he needs Dean inside him. _Oh shit._ He pulls away. “Gotta get a condom and lube, they’re in my bedroom,” he whispers against Dean’s lips.

“Don’t worry. There’s some in the en suite. I may have gotten some the other day on my lunch break,” Dean replies. Cas gives him a sly smile, cocking an eyebrow. “Shut up,” Dean blushes, sliding off the bed. He walks over to the en suite, Cas checking out his butt. _Damn_ , he thinks, noting that the freckles even reach as low as his butt cheeks.

Dean returns victorious and Cas rolls over, spreading his legs. “Um… what do I…?” Dean stutters, sitting on the bed, his legs tucked underneath him.

“Pass me the lube,” Cas holds out his hand. Dean complies and Cas coats a finger, getting on his knees he carefully presses it against his hole. The lube is slightly cold and he gasps as it slips inside. He hears Dean moan as he slips his finger out and back in, working up a rhythm. He angles his neck so that he can see Dean. Who has a hand wrapped around his cock and is stroking it lightly. Adding more lube to a second finger Cas gets to work stretching himself. Somehow it feels even better with Dean watching and pleasuring himself.

***

“Are you sure Cas?” Dean asks for what has to be the tenth time. He’s hovering over Cas, arms bracketing Cas’ head. Cas turns his head and kisses Dean’s arm. He nods. Dean takes a deep breath and slowly begins to push in. Cas holds his breath. It’s been a while and fuck he did not remember it hurting this much. “Are you OK? Cas?” Dean frets. Nodding quickly, Cas can already feel the burn lessening as his body accepts Dean.

“God. Move already,” he mutters, rocking his hips. Dean moans and thrusts. Castiel can’t help by watch Dean’s face. His half-lidded eyes, freckles standing out starkly against flushed cheeks. He’s beautiful. So beautiful.  

“Cas. Cas. Cas,” Dean huffs his name like a prayer, his whole body shaking, trembling with pleasure. Castiel tilts his head back, arching his back. His eyes flicker shut as he focuses on the brush of Dean’s cock against his prostate with each thrust. He can feel every muscle locking up. He’s so close. His hands claw at Dean’s back, his hips thrusting back to meet Dean.

“Dean, I’m…” he pants, his words trailing off when Dean wraps a calloused hand around his throbbing dick and strokes in time with his thrusts. He comes with a strangled moan, back arching off the bed. Dean speeds up his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm. He collapses atop Castiel in a sweaty, sated heap.

“You’re awesome,” he mutters, nuzzling Castiel’s neck.

***

Ten minutes later, Castiel looks over at Dean. A content smile graces his face. Dean stares back at him, his expression a mirror image. He’s been thinking. Dean is everything he’s ever wanted: someone to spend the rest of his life with. The past eight months have been some of the best of his life. He loves Dean so much. He can’t imagine living without him

“Dean?” he asks, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Hmm?” Dean murmurs, staring at Castiel.

“I want to tell you something,” Cas states, rustling up some courage.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Castiel waits for Dean’s reaction with his heart in his mouth. If Dean rejects him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He _truly_ loves him.

Dean surges forward, knocking Castiel onto his back with an oof. Dean plants himself on Castiel’s stomach, kissing him with fervour. His hands cup Castiel’s cheeks. Shocked, Castiel is as stiff as a board under Dean. It takes him a moment to melt under Dean, kissing him back with the same level of passion.

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean replies, pulling back, but leaving his hands cupping Cas’ face. It seems that Castiel’s heart is thumping faster in his chest with the revelation.

“Stay with me. Forever. Dean, I love you and I want to be with you,” Cas confesses. Dean’s answer is to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. The next is an epilogue that I'll upload tomorrow.   
> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting and kudosing. It really means a hell of a lot.


	18. Chapter 18

**Epilogue: Two Months Later**

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” Dean worries, pacing back and forth. Cas rolls his eyes. “I’m serious Cas! It’s been eleven years!” _Shit. Shit. Shit. What if he doesn’t recognise me? What if he hates me? What if he blames me for him being taken away? What if…_ Dean’s what if’s are cut off by Cas pressing up against him and kissing him.

“Stop. He does want to see you. You know how I know?” Cas asks, staring Dean dead in the eye.

“How?”

“The phone bill.”

Dean blushes at Castiel’s words. It is true. Since Cas had made contact with Sam and enquired about the possibility of him reuniting with Dean, he and Sam have been talking over the phone for hours on end.

Now, they’re in California. This meeting has been in the works for weeks. Sam has classes at Stanford and Dean doesn’t want to interrupt his life too much, so they’ve arranged for Dean to come and visit. Cas, obviously, jumped at the chance to take a little vacation from work. With his appointments with Pam, his anxiety and stress about the company have diminished. He booked them into his fancy hotel with a giant ass bed and the best pie that Dean’s ever tasted.

“Sorry about that,” Dean apologises, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Don’t apologise. You’re meeting your brother again for the first time in a decade. You’re allowed to be nervous. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’s just as excited to meet you,” Cas reassures him.

“Dean?”

They turn to see a very tall young man striding towards them. A girl with blonde curly hair has her hand clasped firmly in his. His hair flops across his forehead and he’s dressed in a baggy Stanford tee and ripped jeans.

“Sammy,” Dean grins, enveloping his brother in a hug. Cas stands back, letting the brothers have a moment. He’ll deny it until the day he dies, but he did not shed a single tear. There was something in his eye. “Look at you, Sam,” Dean murmurs to himself, patting a hand against his brothers chest.

“I missed you, Dean,” Sam confesses, crossing his arms. His forehead crinkling as he stifles his own tears. Sam got bounced around foster home after foster home and couldn’t look for Dean. It seemed like every time he finally had a stable home, the family would give him the boot and he’d have to move along. Finally, he landed with the Milligan’s. Kate Milligan raised Sam with her own son Adam. He and Adam grew up practically brothers.

“I missed you too. Who’s this?” Dean diverts the attention to the pretty blonde standing behind Sam, looking a little misty eyed herself.

“I’m Jess,” she introduces; holding out her hand, Dean tugs her in for a hug.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Sam states a little proudly. Dean raises his eyebrows. “And you’re Cas I assume,” Sam says, looking over Castiel.

“That’s right. It’s good to meet you Sam,” Cas says pleasantly, shaking hands with the younger Winchester.

“Likewise,” Sam smiles. “Come, Dean, let me show you around campus. I also want you to meet Kate and Adam. You’re staying for a week right? There’s so much I want to show you,” Sam babbles.

“Don’t worry Sammy, I won’t let you go again,” Dean promises, walking with his brother. Cas and Jess follow behind while Sam and Dean get lost in conversation. It’s like they never even got separated.

***

Dean’s lying on his back on the king sized bed when Cas walks from the bathroom into the main room, butt-naked. Dean whistles wolfishly and Cas flips him off. Rummaging around in his suitcase, Cas pulls out some pyjamas. Once dressed, Cas joins Dean on the bed. “Hey Cas?”

“Yeah?” Cas looks up from pulling back the covers.

“I just wanna thank you. For everything. You’ve changed my life. Seriously, if it weren’t for you I’d still be on the streets. So thank you,” Dean tells him, his voice getting a little choked towards the end. He’s emotional because it’s true. Cas saved his life. Gave him purpose.

“I love you,” is all Cas says, slipping under the covers, he holds up the covers for Dean. He snuggles down next to Cas, he wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist. He’s content. Castiel is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he can see himself spending the rest of his days with him.

***

“Benny, come on!” Dean protests. He promised. Winchester always keep their word. “I promised I would help you and this is me trying to help you,” Dean refrains from pouting. Benny is being a stubborn ass and refuses to stay with them while they can organise a job or a more permanent place of residency.

“Brother, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine!” Benny protests.

“Benny!” Cas places a hand on Dean’s arm, trying in vain to calm him down.

“Let me handle this,” he whispers in Dean’s ear. Dean grumbles something unintelligible that Cas chooses to ignore. “Benny, I understand that you’re probably not used to anybody trying to help you. I understand that. Dean was the same. I promise you won’t be a bother to us. We’re welcoming you into our home as a guest. Please don’t feel like you would be intruding, because you aren’t. We want to help you. Besides, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have Dean,” Cas looks meaningfully over at the disgruntled man.

Benny’s eyes flick between the men before him. An undecided look graces his face. Castiel really hopes that he decides to stay with them. The thought of him having to stay on the streets appals him. From what Dean’s told him, Benny is a good honest man. He deserves their charity.

“Alright. But it’s only temporary!” Benny waggles a finger at him. Cas lights up.

“Of course, what ever you are comfortable with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Benny smirks. Dean throws an arm around Benny’s shoulders, leading him back towards Castiel’s house.

***

Dean Winchester, the homeless man with nothing but the clothes on his back, now has a job, boyfriend, friends and brother. If it weren’t for Cas’ small acts of kindness each day Dean would still have nothing. It just goes to show, that it doesn’t matter if someone is homeless or a CEO of a multimillion dollar company, everyone deserves to be shown a little be of kindness every once and a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end. I just want to say one more huge thank you to everyone. You guys are the best!  
> 


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